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LEGENDS  AND  LYEICS. 


LEGENDS  AND  LYRICS. 


%  ioflk  of  ^tXBtS 


BY 


ADELAIDE  ANNE  PROCTER. 


NEW  YORK: 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY, 

346   &   348   BROADWAY. 
1858. 


CONTENTS 


Pago 

The  Angel's  Story            .            .           .           .           .  .9 

Echoes             .......  19 

A  False  Genius     .           .           .           ,           ,           .  .20 

My  Picture       .......  22 

Judge  not              .           .           .           .           .           .  .25 

Friend  Sorrow            ......  26 

One  by  One           .           .            .           .           .           .  .28 

True  Honours              ......  30 

A  Woman's  Question       .            .           .           .           .  .42 

The  Three  Kulers        ......  45 

A  Dead  Past         .           ...           .           .  .46 

A  Doubting  Heart      ......  48 

A  Student             .           .           .           .           .           .  .50 

A  Knight  Errant         ......  52 

Linger,  oh,  gentle  Time  .           .           .           .           .  .55 

Homeward  Bound       ......  56 

Life  and  Death     .           .           .           .           .           .  .67 

Now     .  .  .  .         "  .  -  .  .69 


654947 


6  CONTENTS. 

Page 
Cleansing  Fires     .  .  .  .  .  .  .71 

The  Voice  of  the  Wind  .  .  .  .  .72 

Treasures  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .75 

Shining  Stars  .......  77 

Waiting     ........    79 

The  Cradle  Song  of  the  Poor  ....  82 

Be  Strong  .......      85 

God's  Gifts 86 

A  Tomb  in  Ghent 89 

The  Angel  of  Death 102 

A  Dream 104 

The  Present    .......  106 

Changes  .......     103 

A  Lament  for  the  Summer  ....  109 

Strive,  AVait,  and  Pray Ill 

The  Unknown  Grave  .  .  .  .  .112 

Give  me  thy  Heart         ......    114 

The  Wayside  Inn      ......  118 

Voices  of  the  Past  ......    127 

The  Dark  Side  .  .  .  '         •  •  •  129 

A  First  Sorrow  .......    131 

Murmurs        .....••  133 

Give         .  ......     135 

My  Journal    ....•••  137 

A  Chain 1^1 

The  Pilgrims  ......  144 

Incompleteness    ...••••    145 

A  Legend  of  Bregenz  .....  147 

A  Farewell 156 


CONTENTS.  7 

Prge 
Sowing  and  Reaping  .....    157 

The  Storm      ......  159 

Words .  .  .  .101 

A  Love  Token  ......  1G3 

A  Tryst  with  Death        .  .  .  .  .  .165 

Fidelis 107 

A  Shadow  .  .  .  .  .  .  .169 

The  Sailor  Boy 170 

A  Crown  of  Sorrow        ......    189 

The  Lesson  of  the  War         .....  190 

The  Two  Spirits  .  .  .  .  .  .193 

A  Little  Longer         ......  199 

Grief         .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .202 

The  Triumph  of  Time  .....  207 

A  Parting  .  .  .  .  .  .  .208 

The  Golden  Gate       ......  211 

Phantoms  .......    213 

Thankfulness  ......  215 

Home-sickness    .......    217 

Wishes  .......  219 

The  Peace  of  God  ......    222 

Life  in  Death  and  Death  in  Life      ....  224 

Recollections       .......     229 

Illusion  •■......  232 

A  Vision  ........    234 

Pictures  in  the  Fire  .....  237 

The  Settlers         .......    240 

Hush!  .......  243 

Hours  .        .  .  .  .  .  .  .245 


o  CONTENTS. 

Page 
The  Two  Interpreters     ..,,..    24S 

Comfort  .  ,  .  .  .  .  .  251 

Home  at  Last       .......    254 

Unexpressed  .  .  ,  ...  .  .256 

Because    .  .  .  ...  ,  ,  .    258 

Rest  at  Evening  .  ,  .  .  .  .  260 

A  Retrospect        .......    262 


THE  AKGEL'S  STORY. 

Through  the  blue  and  frosty  heavens, 
Christmas  stars  were  shinmg  bright ; 

Glistening  lamps  through  the  great  City 
Almost  matched  their  gleaming  hght ; 

While  the  winter  snow  was  lymg, 

And  the  winter  winds  were  sighing, 
Long  ago  one  Christmas  night. 

While  from  every  tower  and  stee^Dle, 
Peahng  bells  were  sounding  clear, 

(Never  with  such  tones  of  gladness. 
Save  when  Christmas  time  is  near,) 

Many  a  one  that  night  was  merry 
Who  had  toiled  through  all  the  year. 


10  THE     angel's     story. 

That  night  saw  old  wrongs  forgiven, 
Fi'iends,  long  parted,  reconciled; 

Voices  aU  unused  to  laughter, 
Mournful  eyes  that  rarely  smiled, 

Trembling  hearts  that  feared  the  morrow, 
From  their  anxious  thoughts  beguiled. 

Rich  and  poor  felt  love  and  blessing 
From  the  gracious  season  fall ; 

Joy  and  jjlenty  in  the  cottage, 
Peace  and  feasting  in  the  hall ; 

And  the  voices  of  the  children 
Ringing  clear  above  it  aU ! 


Yet  one  house  was  dim  and  darkened : 
Gloom,  and  sickness,  and  despaii* 

Were  dweUiug  in  the  gUded  chambers, 
Creeping  up  the  marble  stair, 

StiUinof  even  the  voice  of  mournino- — 
For  a  child  lay  dying  there. 

Silken  curtains  fell  around  him. 

Velvet  carpets  hushed  the  tread, 
1* 


THE     angel's     story.  H 

Many  costly  toys  were  lying, 

All  uulieeded  by  his  bed  ; 
And  his  tangled  golden  ringlets 

Were  on  downy  pillows  spread. 

All  the  skill  of  the  great  City 
To  save  that  little  life  was  vain ; 

That  little  thread  from  being  broken, 

That  fatal  word  from  bemg  spoken ; 
Nay,  his  very  mother's  pain, 

And  the  mighty  love  within  her, 
Could  not  give  him  health  again. 

So  she  knelt  there  still  beside  him, 
She  alone  with  strength  to  smile, 

And  to  promise  he  should  suffer 
!N"o  more  in  a  little  while, 

And  with  murmured  song  and  story 
The  long  weary  hours  beguUe. 

Suddenly  an  unseen  Presence 

Checked  those  constant  moaning  cries, 
Stilled  the  little  heart's  quick  fluttering. 

Raised  those  blue  and  wandering  eyes, 


12  THE     angel's     story. 

Fixed  on  some  "mysterious  vision, 
With  a  startled  sweet  surprise. 

For  a  radiant  angel  hovered 

Smiling  o'er  the  little  bed ; 
White  his  raiment,  from  his  shoulders 

Snowy  dove-like  pinions  spread, 
And  a  starUke  light  was  shining 

In  a  Glory  roimd  his  head. 

While,  vnth  tender  love,  the  angel, 

Leaning  o'er  the  Kttle  nest, 
In  his  arms  the  sick  child  folding. 

Laid  him  gently  on  his  breast. 
Sobs  and  wailings  told  the  mother 

That  her  darling  was  at  rest. 

So  the  angel,  slowly  rising. 

Spread  his  wings ;  and,  through  the  au*. 
Bore  the  smUing  child,  and  held  him 

On  his  heart  with  loving  care ; 
A  red  branch  of  blooming  roses 

Placing  softly  by  him  there. 


THE     ANGEL'S     STOKY.  13 

While  the  child,  thus  clinging,  floated 
Towards  the  mansions  of  the  Blest, 

Gazing  from  his  shining  guardian 
To  the  flowers  upon  his  breast, 

Thus  the  angel  spake,  still  smiling 
On  the  little  heavenly  guest : 

"  Know,  O  little  one,  that  Heaven 

Does  no  earthly  thing  disdain, 
Man's  poor  joys  find  there  an  echo 

Just  as  surely  as  his  pain  ; 
Love,  on  earth  so  feebly  striving. 

Lives  divine  in  Heaven  again ! 

"  Once  in  that  great  town  below  us. 

In  a  poor  and  narrow  street. 
Dwelt  a  little  sickly  orphan  ; 

Gentle  aid,  or  pity  sweet. 
Never  in  life's  rugged  pathway 

Guided  his  poor  tottering  feet. 

"  All  the  striving  anxious  forethought, 
That  should  only  come  ■with,  age. 


14  THE     ANGEL'S     STORY. 

"Weighed  upon  his  baby  spirit, 

Showed  him  soon  life's  sternest  page ; 

Grim  Want  was  his  nurse,  and  Sorrow 
Was  his  only  heritage ! 

"  All  too  weak  for  childish  pastimes, 

Drearily  the  hours  sped ; 
On  his  hands  so  small  and  tremblmg 

Leaning  his  poor  aching  head. 
Or,  through  dark  and  painful  hours. 

Lying  sleepless  on  his  bed. 

"  Dreaming  strange  and  longing  fancies 

Of  cool  forests  far  away ; 
And  of  rosy  happy  children, 

Laughing  merrily  at  j^lay. 
Coming  home  through  green  lanes,  bearing 

Trailing  branches  of  white  May. 

"  Scarce  a  ghmpse  of  the  blue  heavens 
Gleamed  above  that  narrow  street, 

And  the  sultry  air  of  summer 

(That  you  called  so  warm  and  sweet) 

Fevered  the  poor  Orphan,  dwelling 
In  the  crowded  alley's  heat. 


THE    ANGEL'S     STOEY.  15 

"  One  bright  day,  with  feeble  footsteps 

Slowly  forth  he  dared  to  crawl, 
Through  the  crowded  city's  pathways, 

Till  he  reached  a  garden-wall ; 
Where  'mid  princely  halls  and  mansions 

Stood  the  lordliest  of  all. 

"  There  were  trees  with  giant  branches. 
Velvet  glades  where  shadows  hide  ; 

There  were  sparkling  fountains  glancing, 
Flowers  whose  rich  luxtriant  pride 

Wafted  even  a  breath  of  perfume 
To  the  child  who  stood  outside. 

"  He  against  the  gate  of  iron 
Pressed  his  wan  and  wistful  face, 

Gazing  with  an  awe-struck  pleasure 
At  the  glories  of  the  place  ; 

Never  had  his  brightest  day-dream 
Shone  with  half  such  wondrous  grace. 

"  You  were  playing  in  that  garden. 

Throwing  blossoms  in  the  air. 
And  laughing  when  the  petals  floated 

Downwards  on  your  golden  hair; 


16  THE    ANGEL'S     STORY. 

And  the  fond  eyes  watcliing  o'er  you, 

And  the  splendour  spread  before  you, 

Told,  a  House's  Hope  was  there. 

"  When  your  servants,  tired  of  seeing 
His  pale  face  of  want  and  woe. 

Turning  to  the  ragged  Orphan, 
Gave  him  coin,  and  bade  him  go, 

Down  his  cheek  so  thin  and  wasted, 
Bitter  tears  began  to  flow. 

"  But  that  look  of  childish  sorrow 
On  your  tender  chUd  heart  fell, 

And  you  plucked  the  reddest  roses 
From  the  tree  you  loved  so  well, 

Passing  them  through  the  stern  grating. 
With  the  gentle  word,  '  Farewell ! ' 

"  Dazzled  by  the  fragrant  treasure 
And  the  gentle  voice  he  heard. 

In  the  poor  forlorn  boy's  spirit, 
Joy,  the  sleeping  Seraph,  stirred ; 

In  his  hand  he  took  the  flowers. 
In  his  heart  the  loving  word. 


THE     angel's     story.  17 

"  So  he  crept  to  his  poor  garret, 
Poor  no  more,  but  rich  and  bright ; 

For  the  holy  dreams  of  childhood — 

Love,  and  Rest,  and  Hope,  and  Light — 

Floated  round  the  Orphan's  piUow 
Through  the  starry  summer  night. 

"  Day  dawned,  yet  the  visions  lasted ; 

All  too  weak  to  rise  he  lay  ; 
Did  he  dream  that  none  spake  harshly — 

All  were  strangely  kind  that  day  ? 
And  he  thought  his  treasured  roses 

Must  have  charmed  aU  ills  away. 

"  And  he  smiled,  though  they  were  fading  ; 

One  by  one  their  leaves  were  shed ; 
'  Such  bright  things  could  never  perish, 

They  would  bloom  again,'  he  said. 
When  the  next  day's  sun  had  risen 

Child  and  flowers  both  were  dead. 

"  Know,  dear  Httle  one !  our  Father 

Does  no  gentle  deed  disdain ; 
And  in  hearts  that  beat  in  heaven, 

Still  aU  tender  thoughts  remain  ; 


18  THE     ANGEL'S     STORY. 

Love  on  the  cold  earth  beginning 
Lives  divine  and  pure  again  !  " 

Thus  the  angel  ceased,  and  gently 
O'er  his  little  burthen  leant ; 

While  the  child  gazed  from  the  shining, 
Loving  eyes  that  o'er  him  bent, 

To  the  blooming  roses  by  him, 

Wondering  what  that  mystery  meant. 

Then  the  radiant  angel  answered, 
And  with  tender  meaning  smiled, 

"  Ere  your  childUke,  loving  spirit, 
Sin  and  the  hard  world  defiled, 

God  has  given  me  leave  to  seek  you  ; — 
I  was  once  that  little  child !  " 


Li  the  churchyard  of  that  city 
Rose  a  tomb  of  marble  rare, 

Decked,  as  soon  as  SjDring  awakened, 
With  her  buds  and  blossoms  fair ; — 

And  a  humble  grave  beside  it, — 
No  one  knew  who  rested  there. 


ECHOES. 

Still  the  angel  stars  are  shining, 
Still  the  rij^pling  waters  flow, 

But  the  angel-voice  is  silent 
That  I  heard  so  Ions:  asco. 
Hark !  the  echoes  murmur  low, 

Long  ago ! 

StiU  the  wood  is  dim  and  lonely, 
Still  the  plashing  fountains  play, 

But  the  past  and  all  its  beauty, 
Whither  has  it  fled  away  ? 
Hark !  the  mournful  echoes  say, 

Fled  away ! 

Still  the  bird  of  night  complaineth, 
(Now,  indeed,  her  song  is  pain,) 

Visions  of  my  happy  hours, 
Do  I  call  and  call  in  vain  ? 
Hark  !  the  echoes  cry  again, 

All  in  vain ! 


20  ECHOES. 

Cease,  oh  echoes,  mournful  echoes ! 

Once  I  loved  your  voices  well ; 
Now  my  heart  is  sick  and  weary, 

Days  of  old,  a  long  farewell ! 

Hark !  the  echoes  sad  and  dreary 
Cry  farewell,  farewell ! 


A  FALSE  GENIUS. 

I  SEE  a  Spirit  by  thy  side, 
Purple-winged  and  eagle-eyed, 
Looking  like  a  Heavenly  guide. 

Though  he  seem  so  bright  and  fair, 
Ere  thou  trust  his  proffered  care. 
Pause  a  little,  and  beware ! 

K  he  bid  thee  dwell  apart, 
Tendins:  some  ideal  smart 
Li  a  sick  and  coward  heart ; 


A     FALSE     GENIUS.  21 

In  self-worship  wrapjDed  alone, 
Dreaming  thy  poor  griefs  are  grown 
More  than  other  men  have  known ; 

Dwelling  in  some  cloudy  sjjhere, 
Though  God's  work  is  waiting  here, 
And  God  deigneth  to  b§  near ; 

If  his  torch's  crimson  glare 
Show  thee  evil  everywhere, 
Tainting  all  the  wholesome  air  ; 

While  with  strange  distorted  choice, 
Still  disdaining  to  rejoice. 
Thou  wilt  hear  a  wailing  voice  ; 

If  a  simple,  humble  heart. 
Seem  to  thee  a  meaner  part. 
Than  thy  noblest  aim  and  art ; 

If  he  bid  thee  bow  before 
Crowned  IVIind  and  nothing  more. 
The  great  idol  men  adore  ; 


22  A     FALSE     GENIUS. 

And  vnth  starry  veil  enfold 
Sin,  the  trailing  serpent  old, 
Till  his  scales  shine  out  like  gold ; 

Though  his  words  seem  true  and  wise, 
Soul,  I  say  to  thee.  Arise, 
He  is  a  Demon  in 'disguise  ! 


MY  PICTURE. 

Stand  this  way — ^more  near  the  window- 
By  my  desk — you  see  the  light 

Falling  on  my  picture  better — 
Thus  I  see  it  while  I  write  ! 


Who  the  head  may  be  I  know  not. 

But  it  has  a  student  air  ; 
With  a  look  half  sad,  half  stately, 

Grave  sweet  eyes  and  flowing  hair. 


MYPICTUKE.  23 

Little  care  I  who  the  painter, 

How  obscure  a  name  he  bore  ; 
Nor,  when  some  have  named  Velasques, 

Did  I  vahie  it  the  more. 

As  it  is,  I  would  not  give  it 

For  the  rarest  i:»iece  of  art ; 
It  has  dwelt  with  me,  and  listened 

To  the  secrets  of  my  heart. 

Many  a  time,  when  to  my  garret 

Weary  I  returned  at  night. 
It  has  seemed  to  look  a  welcome 

That  has  made  my  poor  room  bright. 

Many  a  time,  when  ill  and  sleejiless, 
I  have  watched  the  quivering  gleam 

Of  my  lamp  upon  that  picture, 
Till  it  faded  in  my  dream. 

When  dark  days  have  come,  and  friendship 
Worthless  seemed,  and  life  in  vain. 

That  bright  friendly  smUe  has  sent  me 
Boldly  to  my  task  agam. 


24  MYPICTUEE. 

Sometimes  when  hard  need  has  pressed  aie 
To  bow  down  where  I  despise, 

I  have  read  stern  words  of  counsel 
In  those  sad  reproachful  eyes. 

Nothing  that  my  bram  imaguied, 
Or  my  weary  hand  has  wi'ought, 

But  it  watched  the  dim  Idea 
Spring  forth  into  armed  thought. 

It  has  smiled  on  my  successes, 

Raised  me  when  my  hopes  were  low, 

And  by  turns  has  looked  upon  me 
With  all  the  loving  eyes  I  know. 

Do  you  wonder  that  my  picture 
Has  become  so  like  a  friend  ? — 

It  has  seen  my  life's  beginnings, 
It  shall  stay  and  cheer  the  end ! 


JUDGE  NOT. 

Judge  not ;  the  workings  of  his  brain 
And  of  his  heart  thou  canst  not  see ; 

What  looks  to  thy  dim  eyes  a  stain, 
In  God's  pure  light  may  only  be 

A  scar,  brought  from  some  weU-won  field, 

Where  thou  wouldst  only  faint  and  yield. 

The  look,  the  air,  that  frets  thy  sight, 

May  be  a  token,  that  below 
The  soul  has  closed  in  deadly  fight 

With  some  infernal  fiery  foe, 
Whose  glance  would  scorch  thy  smiling  grace, 
.And  cast  thee  shuddering  on  thy  face ! 

The  faU  thou  darest  to  despise — 
May  be  the  slackened  angel's  hand 

Has  sufiered  it,  that  he  may  rise 
And  take  a  fii*mer,  surer  stand ; 
2 


26  JIJDGENOT. 

Or,  trusting  less  to  earthly  things, 
May  henceforth  learn  to  use  his  wings. 

And  judge  none  lost,  but  wait,  and  see. 
With  hopeful  pity,  not  disdain ; 

The  depth  of  the  abyss  may  be 
The  measure  of  the  height  of  pam 

And  love  and  glory  that  may  raise 
This  soul  to  God  in  after  days ! 


FEIEKD  SOREOW. 

Do  not  cheat  thy  Heart  and  tell  her, 

"  Grief  will  pass  away, 
Hope  for  fairer  times  in  future, 

And  forget  to-day." — 
Tell  her,  if  you  will,  that  sorrow 

Need  not  come  in  vain ; 
Tell  her  that  the  lesson  taught  her 

Far  outweighs  the  pain. 


FKIEND     SORROW.  27 

Cheat  her  not  with  the  old  comfort, 

"  Soon  she  mil  forget" — 
Bitter  truth,  alas, — but  matter 

Rather  for  regret ; 
Bid  her  not  "  Seek  other  pleasures, 

Turn  to  other  things : " — 
But  rather  nurse  her  cag6d  sorrow 

Till  the  captive  sings. 

Rather  bid  her  go  forth  bravely, 

And  the  stranger  greet : 
Not  as  foe,  with  spear  and  buckler. 

But  as  dear  friends  meet ; 
Bid  her  with  a  strong  clasp  hold  her. 

By  her  dusky  wings — 
And  listen  for  the  murmured  blessing 

Sorrow  always  brings. 


OKE  BY   ONE. 

One  by  one  the  sands  are  flowing, 
One  by  one  the  moments  fall ; 

Some  are  coming,  some  are  going ; 
Do  not  strive  to  grasp  them  all. 

One  by  one  thy  duties  wait  thee, 
Let  thy  whole  strength  go  to  each, 

Let  no  future  dreams  elate  thee, 

Learn  thou  first  what  these  can  teach. 

One  by  one  (bright  gifts  from  Heaven) 
Joys  are  sent  thee  here  below ; 

Take  them  readUy  when  given, 
Ready,  too,  to  let  them  go. 

One  by  one  thy  griefs  shall  meet  thee, 
Do  not  fear  an  arm^d  band ; 

One  will  fade  as  others  greet  thee. 
Shadows  passing  through  the  land. 


ONEBYONE.  29 

Do  not  look  at  life's  long  sorrow ; 

See  how  small  each  moment's  pain ; 
God  will  help  thee  for  to-moiTow, 

So  each  day  begin  again. 

Every  hour  that  fleets  so  slowly 

Has  its  task  to  do  or  bear ; 
Luminous  the  crown,  and  holy, 

If  thou  set  each  gem  mth  care. 

Do  not  hnger  with  regretting. 

Or  for  passing  hours  desj)ond ; 
Nor,  the  daily  toil  forgetting, 

Look  too  eagei'ly  beyond. 

Hours  are  golden  links,  God's  token, 
Reaching  Heaven  ;  but  one  by  one 

Take  them,  lest  the  chain  be  broken 
Ere  the  pilgrimage  be  done. 


TRUE  HOISTOURS. 

Is  my  darling  tired  ali-eady, 

Tired  of  her  long  day  of  play  ? 
Draw  your  little  stool  beside  me, 

Smooth  this  tangled  hair  away. 
Can  she  put  the  logs  together, 

Till  they  make  a  cheerful  blaze  ? 
And  shall  her  blind  old  Uncle  tell  her 

Something  about  long  past  days  ? 

Hark !  The  wind  among  the  cedars 

Waves  their  white  arms  to  and  fro, 
I  remember  how  I  watched  them 

Sixty  Christmas  Days  ago : 
Then  I  dreamt  a  glorious  vision 

Of  great  deeds  to  crown  each  year  ;- 
Sixty  Christmas  Days  have  found  me 

Useless,  helpless,  bUnd, — and  here! 


TKUE     HONOUKS.  31 

Yes,  I  feel  my  darling  stealing 

Warm  soft  fingers  into  mine ; — 
Shall  I  tell  her  what  I  fancied 

In  that  strange  old  dream  of  mine  ? 
I  was  kneeling  by  the  window, 

Reading  how  a  noble  band, 
With  the  red  cross  on  their  breast-plates 

Went  to  gain  the  Holy  Land. 

While  with  eager  eyes  of  wonder 

Over  the  dark  page  I  bent, 
Slowly  twilight  shadows  gathered 

TiU  the  letters  came  and  went ; 
Slowly,  tiU  the  night  was  round  me. 

Then  my  heart  beat  loud  and  fast : 
For  I  felt  before  I  saw  it 

That  a  spirit  near  me  passed. 

So  I  raised  my  eyes,  and  shining 

Where  the  moon's  first  ray  was  bright, 

Stood  a  winged  Angel-warrior 
Clothed  and  panoplied  in  light : 

So,  with  Heaven's  love  upon  him. 
Stem  in  cahn  and  resolute  will. 


32  TRUE     HONOUES. 

Looked  St.  Michael, — does  the  picture 
Hang  in  the  old  cloister  still  ? 

Threefold  were  the  dreams  of  honour 

That  absorbed  my  heart  and  bram ; 
Threefold  crowns  the  Angel  promised, 

Each  one  to  be  bought  by  pain : 
While  he  spoke,  a  threefold  blessing 

Fell  upon  my  soul  like  rain. 
Helper  or  the  poor  and  supfeeing  ; 

Victor  rsr  a  gloeious  steife  ; 

SiNGEE  OF  A  NOBLE  POEM  : 

Such  the  honours  of  my  life. 

Ah,  that  dream !  Long  years  have  brought  me 
Joy  and  grief  and  real  things  ; 

Yet  never  touched  the  tender  memory 
Sweet  and  solemn  that  it  brings, — 

Never  quite  effaced  the  feeling 

Of  those  white  and  shadowing  wings. 

Ah,  I  guess,  those  blue  eyes  open ! 

Does  my  faith  too  foolish  seem  ? 
Yes,  my  darling,  years  have  taught  me 

It  was  nothing  but  a  dream. 


TKUE     HONOURS.  33 

Soon,  too  soon,  the  bitter  knowledge 

Of  a  fearful  trial  rose. 
Rose  to  crush  my  heart,  and  sternly 

Bade  my  young  ambition  close. 

More  and  more  my  eyes  were  clouded, 

Till  at  last  God's  glorious  light 
Passed  away  from  me  for  ever. 

And  I  lived  and  live  in  niffht. 
Dear,  I  will  not  dim  your  j)leasure, 

Christmas  should  be  only  gay, — 
In  my  night  the  stars  have  risen. 

And  I  wait  the  dawn  of  day. 

Even  then  I  could  be  happy, 

For  my  brothers'  tender  care 
In  their  boyish  pastimes  ever 

Made  me  take,  or  feel  a  share. 
Philip,  even  then  so  thoughtful, 

Max  so  noble,  brave  and  tall, 
And  your  father,  little  Godfrey, 

The  most  loving  of  them  all. 

Philip  reasoned  down  my  sorrow. 

Max  would  laugh  my  gloom  away, 
2* 


34  TRUE     HONOURS. 

Godfrey's  little  arms  put  round  me, 
Helped  me  through  my  dreariest  day. 

And  the  promise  of  my  angel, 

Like  a  star,  now  bright,  now  pale, 

Hung  in  blackest  night  above  me, 
And  I  felt  it  could  not  fail. 

Years  passed  on,  my  brothers  left  me. 

Each  went  out  to  take  his  share 
In  the  struggle  of  life ;  my  portion 

Was  a  humble  one — to  bear. 
Here  I  dwelt,  and  learnt  to  wander 

Through  the  woods  and  fields  alone. 
Every  cottage  in  the  village 

Had  a  corner  caUed  my  own. 

Old  and  young,  aU  brought  their  troubles, 

Great  or  small  for  me  to  hear ; 
I  have  often  blessed  my  sorrow 

That  drew  others'  grief  so  near. 
Ah,  the  people  needed  helping — 

Needed  love — (for  Love  and  Heaven 
Are  the  only  gifts  not  bartered. 

They  alone  are  freely  given) — 


TKUEHONOUES.  35 

And  I  gave  it.     Philip's  bounty, 

(We  were  orphans,  clear,)  made  toil 
Prosper,  and  want  never  fastened 

On  the  tenants  of  the  soil. 
Phihp's  name  (Oh,  how  I  gloried. 

He  so  young,  to  see  it  rise !) 
Soon  grew  noted  among  Statesmen 

As  a  patriot  true  and  wise. 

And  his  peoj^le,  too,  felt  honoured 

To  be  ruled  by  such  a  name ; 
I  was  proud,  too,  that  they  loved  me, 

Through  their  j^ride  in  him  it  came. 
He  had  gained  what  I  had  longed  for, 

I  meanwhile  grew  glad  and  gay, 
'Mid  his  people,  to  be  serving 

Him  and  them,  in  some  poor  way. 

How  his  noble  earnest  speeches. 

With  untiring  fervour  came ; 
Helpee  of  the  poor  and  suffering  ; 

Truly  he  deserved  the  name  ! 
Had  my  Angel's  promise  failed  me  ? 

Had  that  M'ord  of  hope  grown  dim  ? 


36  TKUE     HONOURS. 

Why,  my  PhiHp  had  fulfiUed  it, 
And  I  loved  it  best  in  him ! 

Max  meanwhile — ah,  you,  my  darling, 

Can  his  loving  words  recall — 
'Mid  the  bravest  and  the  noblest. 

Braver,  nobler,  than  them  all. 
How  I  loved  him !  how  my  heart  thriUed 

"When  his  sword  clanked  by  his  side. 
When  I  touched  his  gold  embroidery, 

Almost  saw  him  in  his  pride  ! 

So  we  parted ;  he  all  eager 

To  ujihold  the  name  he  bore, 
Leaving  in  my  charge — ^he  loved  me — 

Some  one  whom  he  loved  still  more : 
I  must  tend  this  gentle  flower, 

I  must  speak  to  her  of  him. 
For  he  feared — Love  stUl  is  fearful — 

That  his  memory  might  grow  dim. 

I  must  guard  her  from  all  sorrow, 
I  must  play  a  brother's  part, 

Shield  all  grief  and  trial  from  her. 
If  it  need  be,  with  my  hearts 


TBUEHONOUKS.  37 

Tears  passed,  and  his  name  grew  famous ; 

We  were  proud,  both  she  and  I ; 
And  we  lived  upon  his  letters, 

While  the  slow  days  fleeted  by. 

Then  at  last — you  know  the  story, 

How  a  fearful  rumour  sj^read, 
TiU  all  hope  had  slowly  faded. 

And  we  heard  that  he  was  dead. 
Dead !  Oh,  those  were  bitter  hours ; 

Yet  within  my  soul  there  dwelt 
Something;  while  the  rest  aU  mourned  him, 

Something,  like  a  hope,  I  felt. 

His  was  no  weak  life  as  mine  was, 

But  a  life,  so  full  and  strong, 
No,  I  could  not  tliink  he  perished 

Nameless,  'mid  a  conquered  throng. 
How  she  drooped !     Yeai's  passed ;  no  tidings 

Came,  and  yet  that  little  flame 
Of  strange  hope  within  my  spirit 

StiU  bm-nt  on,  and  lived  the  same. 

Well,  my  child,  our  hearts  will  fail  us, 
Then,  when  they  the  strongest  seem  j 


38  TEUE     HONOURS. 

I  can  look  back  on  those  hours 

As  a  fearful,  evil  dream. 
She  had  long  despau-ed ;  what  wonder 

That  her  heart  had  turned  to  mine  ? 
Earthly  loves  are  deep  and  tender, 

Not  eternal  and  divine ! 

Can  I  say  how  bright  a  future 

Rose  before  my  soul  that  day  ? 
Oh,  so  strange,  so  sweet,  so  tender ; 

And  I  had  to  turn  away. 
Hard  and  terrible  the  struggle. 

For  the  pain  not  mine  alone ; 
I  called  back  my  Brother's  spirit, 

And  I  bade  him  claim  his  own. 

Told  her — now  I  dared  to  do  it — 

That  I  felt  the  day  would  rise 
When  he  would  return  to  gladden 

My  weak  heart  and  her  bright  eyes. 
And  I  j)leaded — pleaded  sternly — 

In  his  name,  and  for  his  sake  : 
Now,  I  can  speak  calmly  of  it, 

Then,  I  thought  my  heart  would  break. 


TRUE     HONOURS.  39 

Soon — ah,  Love  had  not  deceived  me, 

(Love's  true  instincts  never  err,) 
"Wounded,  weak,  escaped  from  prison, 

He  returned  to  me  :  to  her. 
I  could  thank  God  that  bi'ight  morning, 

When  I  felt  my  Brother's  gaze, 
That  my  heart  was  true  and  loyal, 

As  in  our  old  boyish  days. 

Bought  by  wounds  and  deeds  of  daring, 

Honours  he  had  brought  away  ; 
Glory  crowned  his  name — my  Brother's, 

Mine,  too  ! — we  were  one  that  day. 
Since  the  crown  on  him  had  fallen, 

"  Victor  in  a  nobler  strife," 
I  could  live  and  die  contented 

With  my  poor  ignoble  life. 

Well,  my  darling,  almost  weary 

Of  my  story  ?     Wait  awhile  ; 
For  the  rest  is  only  joyful, 

I  can  tell  it  with  a  smile. 
One  bright  promise  still  was  left  me. 

Wound  so  close  about  my  soul, 


40  TKUE     HONOURS. 

That  as  one  by  one  had  failed  me, 
This  dream  now  absorbed  the  whole. 

"  SlKGEK  or  A  NOBLER  PoEM," 

Ah,  my  darling,  few  and  rare 
Burn  the  glorious  names  of  Poets, 

Like  stars  in  the  purple  air. 
That  too,  and  I  glory  in  it. 

That  great  gift  my  Godfrey  won ; 
I  have  my  dear  share  of  honour. 

Gained  by  that  beloved  one. 

One  day  shall  my  darling  read  it ; 

Now  she  cannot  understand 
All  the  noble  thoughts,  that  lighten 

Through  the  genius  of  the  land. 
I  am  proud  to  be  his  brother. 

Proud  to  think  that  hope  was  true ; 
Though  I  longed  and  strove  so  vainly, 

"What  I  failed  in,  he  could  do. 

I  was  long  before  I  knew  it. 

Longer  ere  I  felt  it  so ; 
Then  I  strung  my  rhymes  together 

Only  for  the  poor  and  low. 


TEUEHONOUES.  41 

And,  it  pleases  me  to  know  it, 

(For  I  love  them  well  indeed,) 
They  care  for  my  humble  verses. 

Fitted  for  their  humble  need. 

And,  it  cheers  my  heart  to  hear  it, 

Where  the  far-off  settlers  roam. 
My  poor  words  are  sung  and  cherished. 

Just  because  they  speak  of  Home. 
And  the  little  children  sing  them, 

(That,  I  think,  has  pleased  me  best,) 
Often,  too,  the  dying  love  them. 

For  they  tell  of  Heaven  and  rest. 

So  my  last  vain  dream  has  faded  ; 

(Such  as  I  to  think  of  fame  !) 
Yet  I  will  not  say  it  faUed  me. 

For  it  crowned  my  Godfrey's  name. 
No  ;  my  Angel  did  not  cheat  me, 

I  or  my  long  life  has  been  blest ; 
He  did  give  me  Love  and  Sorrow, 

He  will  bring  me  Light  and  Rest. 


A  WOMAN'S  QUESTION. 

Before  I  trust  my  Fate  to  thee, 

Or  place  my  hand  in  tliine, 
Before  I  let  thy  Future  give 

Colour  and  form  to  mine, 
Before  I  peril  all  for  thee,  question  thy  soul  to- 
night for  me. 

I  break  all  slighter  bonds,  nor  feel 

A  shadow  of  regret : 
Is  there  one  link  within  the  Past, 

That  holds  thy  spirit  yet  ? 
Or  is  thy  Faith  as  clear  and  free  as  that  which  1 
can  pledge  to  thee  ? 

Does  there  within  thy  dimmest  dreams 
A  possible  future  shine, 


A     WOMAN'S     QUESTION.  43 

Wherein  thy  Ufe  could  henceforth  breathe, 

Untouched,  unshared  by  mine  ? 

If  so,  at  any  pain  or  cost,  oh,  tell  me  before  all  is 
lost. 

Look  deeper  still.     If  thou  canst  feel, 

Within  thy  inmost  soul. 
That  thou  hast  kept  a  portion  back, 

While  I  have  staked  the  whole : 
Let  no  false  pity  spare  the  blow,  but  in  true  mercy 
tell  me  so. 

Is  there  within  thy  heart  a  need 

That  mine  cannot  fulfil  ? 
One  chord  that  any  other  hand 

Could  better  wake  or  still  ? 
Speak  now — lest  at  some  future  day  my  whole  life 
wither  and  decay. 

Lives  there  within  thy  nature  hid 

The  demon-spirit  Change, 
Shedding  a  passing  gloiy  still 

On  all  things  new  and  strange  ? — 
It  may  not  be  thy  fault  alone— but  shield  my  heart 
against  thy  own. 


44  A    woman's    question. 

Couldst  thou  withdraw  thy  hand  one  day 

And  answer  to  my  claim, 
That  Fate,  and  that  to-day's  mistake, 

Not  thou, — had  been  to  blame  ? 
Some  soothe  their  conscience  thus:  but  thou,  O 
surely,  thou  wilt  warn  me  now 

Nay,  answer  not — I  dare  not  hear, 

The  words  would  come  too  late ; 
Yet  I  would  spare  thee  all  remorse. 

So,  comfort  thee,  my  Fate : — 
Whatever   on  my  heai-t  may  fall, — remember,  I 
loould  risk  it  all ! 


THE  THREE  RULERS. 

I  SAW  a  Riiler  take  his  stand 

And  trample  on  a  mighty  land ; 

The  People  crouched  before  his  beck, 

His  iron  heel  was  on  their  neck, 

His  name  shone  bright  through  blood  and  pain, 

His  sword  flashed  back  their  praise  again. 

I  saw  another  Ruler  rise, — 

His  words  were  noble,  good,  and  wise ; 

With  the  calm  sceptre  of  his  pen 

He  ruled  the  minds  and  thoughts  of  men : 

Some  scoffed,  some  praised — while  many  heard, 

Only  a  few  obeyed  his  word. 

Another  Ruler  then  I  saw, — 
Love  and  sweet  Pity  were  his  law : 


46  THETHEEE    EULEES. 

The  greatest  and  the  least  had  part 
(Yet  most  the  unhajipy)  in  his  heart ; — 
The  People,  in  a  mighty  band, 
Rose  up,  and  drove  him  from  the  land  ! 


A  DEAD  PAST. 

Spaee  her  at  least :  look,  you  have  taken  from  mo 
The  Present,  and  I  murmur  not,  nor  moan ; 
The  Future,  too,  with  all  her  glorious  promise ; 
But  do  not  leaA'e  me  utterly  alone. 

Spare  me  the  Past — for,  see,  she  cannot  harm  you, 
She  lies  so  white  and  cold,  wrapped  in  her  shroud; 
All,  all  my  own !  and,  trust  me,  I  will  hide  her 
Within  my  soul,  nor  speak  to  her  aloud. 

I  folded  her  soft  hands  upon  her  bosom. 

And  strewed  my  flowers  upon  her — they  still  live — 


ADEADPAST.  47 

Sometimes  I  like  to  kiss  her  closed  white  eyelids, 
And  think  of  all  the  joy  she  used  to  give. 

Cruel  indeed  it  were  to  take  her  from  me ; 
She  sleeps,  she  will  not  wake — no  fear — again : 
And  so  I  laid  her,  such  a  gentle  burthen. 
Quietly  on  my  heart  to  still  its  pain. 

I  do  not  think  the  rosy  smiling  Present, 
Or  the  vague  Future,  spite  of  all  her  charms, 
Could  ever  rival  her.     You  know  you  laid  her. 
Long  years  ago,  then  living,  in  my  arms. 

Leavp,  her  at  least — while  my  tears  fall  upon  her, 
I  dream  she  smiles,  just  as  she  did  of  yore ; 
As  dear  as  ever  to  me — nay,  it  may  be, 
Even  dearer  still — since  I  have  nothing  more. 


A  DOUBTING  HEAKT. 

Where  are  the  swallows  fled  ? 

Frozen  and  dead, 
Percliance  upon  some  bleak  and  stormy  shore. 
O  doubting  heart ! 
Far  over  purple  seas, 
They  wait,  in  sunny  ease. 
The  balmy  southern  breeze. 
To  bring  them  to  their  northern  home  once  nioie. 

Why  must  the  flowers  die  ? 

Prisoned  they  lie 
In  the  cold  tomb,  heedless  of  tears  or  rain. 
O  doubting  heart ! 
They  only  sleep  below 
.  The  soft  white  ermine  snow. 
While  winter  winds  shall  blow, 
To  breathe  and  smile  upon  you  soon  again. 


A     DOUBTIKG     HEART.  49 

The  sun  has  hid  its  rays 

These  many  days ; 
Will  dreary  hours  never  leave  the  earth  ? 
O  doubtmg  heart ! 
The  stormy  clouds  on  high 
Veil  the  same  sunny  sky, 
That  soon  (for  spring  is  nigh) 
Shall  -wake  the  summer  into  golden  mirth. 

Fair  hoi^e  is  dead,  and  light 

Is  quenched  in  night. 
What  sound  can  break  the  silence  of  despair  ? 
O  doubting  heart ! 
Thy  sky  is  overcast, 
Yet  stars  shall  rise  at  last, 
Brighter  for  darkness  past, 
And  angels'  silver  voices  stir  the  air. 


A  STUDENT. 

Oyer  an  ancient  scroll  I  bent, 

Steeping  my  soul  in  wise  content, 
Nor  paused  a  moment,  save  to  chide 
A  low  voice  whispering  at  my  side. 

I  wove  beneath  the  stars'  pale  shine 
A  dream,  half  human,  half  divine ; 
And  shook  off  (not  to  break  the  charm) 
A  little  hand  laid  on  my  arm. 

I  read ;  ah,  how  my  heart  would  glow, 
With  glorious  deeds  of  long  ago ; 
Nor  heard,  while  with  those  mighty  dead, 
Pass  to  and  fro  a  faltering  tread. 

On  the  old  theme  I  pondered  long, — 
The  struggle  between  right  and  wrong ; 


A     STUDENT.  51 

I  could  not  check  such  visions  his^h. 
To  soothe  a  little  quivering  sigh. 

I  tried  to  solve  the  problem — Life  ; 
Dreaming  of  that  mysterious  strife, 
How  could  I  leave  such  reasonings  wise. 
To  answer  two  blue  pleading  eyes  ? 

I  strove  how  best  to  give,  and  when, 
My  blood  to  save  my  fellow-men : — 
How  could  I  turn  aside,  to  look 
At  snowdrops  laid  upon  my  book  ? 

Now  tune  has  fled, — the  world  is  strangle. 
Something  there  is  of  j)ain  and  change  ; 
My  books  lie  closed  upon  the  shelf; 
I  miss  the  old  heai't  in  myself 

I  miss  the  sunbeams  in  my  room ; — 
It  was  not  always  wrajsped  in  gloom  ; 
I  miss  my  dreams, — they  fade  so  fast, 
Or  flit  into  some  trivial  past. 


52  A      S  T  U  D  E  N  T  . 

The  great  stream  of  the  world  goes  by ; 
!N"oue  care,  or  heed,  or  question,  why 
I,  the  lone  student,  cannot  raise 
My  voice  or  hand  as  in  old  days. 

No  echo  seems  to  wake  again 
My  heart  to  anything  but  pain, 
Save  when  a  dream  of  twihght  brings 
The  fluttering  of  an  angel's  wings ! 


A  KNIGHT  ERRANT. 

Though  he  lived  and  died  among  us, 
Yet  his  name  may  be  enrolled 

With  the  knights  whose  deeds  of  daring 
Ancient  chronicles  have  told. 

StiU  a  stripling,  he  encountered 
Poverty,  and  struggled  long. 

Gathering  force  from  every  effort, 
Till  he  knew  his  arm  was  strong. 


A     KNIGHT     ERKANT.  53 

Then  his  heart  and  life  he  offered 
To  his  radiant  mistress — Truth ; 

Never  thought,  or  dream,  or  faltering. 
Marred  the  promise  of  his  youth. 

And  he  rode  forth  to  defend  her, 
And  her  peerless  worth  proclaim ; 

Challenging  each  recreant  doubter 
Who  aspersed  her  spotless  name. 

First  upon  his  path  stood  Ignorance 

Hideous  in  his  brutal  might ; 
Hard  the  blows  and  long  the  battle 

Ere  the  monster  took  to  flight. 

Then,  with  light  and  fearless  spirit. 

Prejudice  he  dared  to  brave ; 
Hunting  back  the  lying  craven 

To  her  black  sulphureous  cave. 

Followed  by  his  servile  minions, 

The  old  Giant  Custom  rose  ; 
Yet  he,  too,  at  last  was  conquered 

By  the  good  Knight's  weighty  blows. 


54  A     KNIGHT     EEEANT. 

Then  he  turned,  and  flushed  with  victory, 
Struck  upon  the  brazen  shield 

Of  the  world's  great  king,  Opinion, 
And  defied  him  to  the  field. 

Once  again  he  rose  a  conqueror. 
And,  though  wounded  in  the  fight. 

With  a  dying  smile  of  triumph 

Saw  that  Truth  had  gained  her  right. 

On  his  faUins  ear  re-echoing 

Came  the  shouting  round  her  throne  ; 

Little  cared  he  that  no  future 

With  her  name  would  link  his  own. 

Spent  with  many  a  hard-fought  battle, 
Slowly  ebbed  his  life  away, 

And  the  crowd  that  flocked  to  greet  her 
Trampled  on  him  Avhere  he  lay. 

Gathering  all  his  strength,  he  saw  her 
Crowned  and  reigning  in  her  pride : 

Looked  his  last  upon  her  beauty, 
Raised  his  eyes  to  God,  and  died. 


LESTGEE,  OH,  GENTLE  TIME. 

LiNGEE,  oh,  gentle  Time, 
Linger,  oh,  radiant  grace  of  bright  To-day ! 

Let  not  the  hours'  chime 
Call  thee  away. 
But  linger  near  me  still  with  fond  delay. 

Linger,  for  thou  art  mine ! 
What  dearer  treasures  can  the  future  hold  ? 

What  sweeter  flowers  than  thine 
Can  she  unfold  ? 
What  secrets  tell  my  heart  thou  hast  not  told  ? 

Oh,  linger  in  thy  flight ! 
For  shadows  gather  round,  and  should  we  part, 

A  dreary  starless  night 
May  fill  my  heart, — 
Then  pause  and  linger  yet  ere  thou  depart. 


56         LINGEE,      OH,      GENTLE     TIME, 

Linger,  I  ask  no  more, — 
Thou  art  enough  for  ever — thou  alone ; 

What  future  can  restore. 
When  thou  art  flown, 
All  that  I  hold  from  thee  and  call  my  own  ? 


HOMEWARD  BOUND. 

I  HAVE  seen  a  fiercer  tempest, 

Known  a  louder  whirlwmd  blow. 
I  was  wrecked  off  red  Algiers, 

Sixty-and-thirty  years  ago. 
Young  I  was, — and  yet  old  seamen 

Were  not  strong  or  calm  as  I ; 
While  life  held  such  treasures  for  me, 

I  felt  sure  I  could  not  die. 

Life  I  struggled  for — and  saved  it ; 

Life  alone — and  nothins:  more : 
Bruised,  half  dead,  alone  and  helpless 

I  was  cast  upon  the  shore. 


HOMEWARD     BOUND.  57 

I  feared  the  pitiless  rocks  of  Ocean ; 

So  the  great  sea  rose — and  then 
Cast  me  fi-om  her  friendly  bosom, 

On  the  pitiless  hearts  of  men. 

Gaunt  and  dreary  ran  the  moimtains, 

With  black  gorges,  up  the  land  ; 
Up  to  where  the  lonely  Desert 

Spreads  her  burning,  dreary  sand  : 
In  the  gorges  of  the  mountains. 

On  the  plain  beside  the  sea, 
Dwelt  my  stern  and  cruel  masters. 

The  black  Moors  of  Barbary. 

Ten  long  years  I  toiled  among  them. 

Hopeless — as  I  used  to  say ; 
Now  I  know  Hope  burnt  within  me 

Fiercer,  stronger,  day  by  day  : 
Those  dim  years  of  toil  and  sorrow 

Like  one  long  dark  dream  apj^ear ; 
One  long  day  of  weary  waiting  ; 

Then  each  day  was  like  a  year. 

How  I  cursed  the  land — my  prison  ; 
How  I  cursed  the  serpent  sea, — 


3* 


58  HOMEWARD     BOUND. 

And  the  Demon  Fate, — ^that  showered 

All  her  curses  upon  me : 
I  was  mad,  I  think — God  jjardon 

Words  so  terrible  and  wUd — 
This  voyage  would  have  been  my  last  one, 

For  I  left  a  wife  and  child. 

Never  did  one  tender  vision 

Fade  away  before  my  sight, 
Never  once  through  all  my  slavery, 

Burning  day  or  dreary  night ; 
In  my  soul  it  lived,  and  kept  me, 

Now  I  feel,  from  black  despair. 
And  my  heart  was  not  quite  broken, 

While  they  lived  and  blest  me  there. 

When  at  night  my  task  was  over, 

I  would  hasten  to  the  shore ; 
(All  was  strange  and  foreign  inland, 

Nothing  I  had  kno^vn  before ; ) 
Strange  looked  the  bleak  mountain  jiasses. 

Strange  the  red  glare  and  black  shade. 
And  the  Oleanders,  waving 

To  the  sound  the  fountains  made. 


HOMEWARD     BOUND.  59 

Then  I  gazed  at  the  great  Ocean, 

Till  she  grew  a  friend  again ; 
And  because  she  knew  old  England, 

I  forgave  her  all  my  pain : 
So  the  blue  stUl  sky  above  me, 

With  its  white  clouds'  fleecy  fold, 
And  the  glimmering  stars,  (though  brighter,) 

Looked  like  home  and  days  of  old. 

And  a  calm  would  fall  upon  me, 

"Worn  perhaps  with  work  and  pain. 
The  wild  hungry  longing  left  me, 

And  I  was  myself  again : 
Looking  at  the  silver  wa.ters, 

Looking  up  at  the  far  sky, 
Dreams  of  home  and  all  I  left  there 

Floated  sorrowfully  by. 

A  fair  face,  but  pale  with  sorrow, 
With  blue  eyes,  brimful  of  tears, 

And  the  little  red  mouth,  quiveiing 
With  a  smile,  to  hide  its  fears ; 

Holding  out  her  baby  towards  me, 
From  the  sky  she  looked  on  me ; 


60  HOMEWARD     BOUND. 

So  it  was  that  I  last  saw  her, 
As  the  ship  put  out  to  sea. 

Sometimes,  (and  a  pang  would  seize  me 

That  the  years  were  floating  on,) 
I  would  strive  to  paint  her,  altered. 

And  the  little  baby  gone : 
She  no  longer  young  and  girlish. 

The  child,  standing  by  her  knee, 
And  her  face  more  pale  and  saddened 

With  the  weariness  for  me. 

Then  I  saw,  as  night  grew  darker, 

How  she  taught  my  child  to  pray, 
Holding  its  small  hands  together, 

For  its  father,  far  away ; 
And  I  felt  her  sorrow,  weighing 

Heavier  on  me  than  mine  own ; 
Pitying  her  blighted  spring-time. 

And  her  joys  so  early  flown. 

Till  upon  my  hands  (now  hardened 
With  the  rough,  harsh  toil  of  years) 

Bitter  drops  of  anguish,  falling. 

Woke  me  from  my  dream,  to  tears : 


HOME  W  ARD     BOUND.  61 

Woke  me  as  a  slave,  au  outcast, 
Leagues  from  home,  across  the  deep ; 

So — though  you  may  call  it  childish — 
So  I  sobbed  myself  to  sleej). 

Well,  the  years  sped  on — my  Sorrow 

Calmer,  and  yet  stronger  grown. 
Was  my  shield  against  all  suffering, 

Poorer,  meaner,  than  her  own. 
So  my  cruel  master's  harshness 

Fell  upon  me  all  in  vain, 
Yet  the  tale  of  what  we  suffered 

Echoed  back  from  main  to  main. 

You  have  heard  in  a  far  country 

Of  a  self-devoted  band. 
Vowed  to  rescue  Christian  captives 

Pining  in  a  foreign  land. 
And  these  gentle-hearted  strangers 

Year  by  year  go  forth  from  Rome, 
In  their  hands  the  hard-earned  ransom, 

To  restore  some  exiles  home. 

I  was  fi-eed :  they  broke  the  tidings 
Gently  to  me :  but  indeed 


62  HOMEWARD     BOUND. 

Hour  by  hour  sped  on,  I  knew  not 
What  the  words  meant — I  was  freed ! 

Better  so,  perhaps ;  while  sorrow 
(More  akm  to  earthly  thmgs) 

Only  strains  the  sad  heart's  fibres — 

Joy,  bright  stranger,  breaks  the  strings. 

Yet  at  last  it  rushed  upon  me, 

And  my  heart  beat  full  and  fast ; 
What  were  now  my  years  of  waiting, 

What  was  aU  the  dreary  past  ? 
Nothing — to  the  impatient  throbbing 

I  must  bear  across  the  sea : 
Nothing — ^to  the  eternal  hours 

StiU  between  my  home  and  me  ! 

How  the  voyage  passed,  I  know  not ; 

Strange  it  was  once  more  to  stand 
With  my  countrymen  around  me. 

And  to  clasp  an  Enghsh  hand. 
But,  through  all,  my  heart  was  dreaming 

Of  the  first  words  I  should  hear, 
In  the  gentle  voice  that  echoed. 

Fresh  as  ever,  on  my  ear. 


HOMEWARD     BOUND.  63 

Should  I  see  lier  start  of  wonder, 

And  the  sudden  truth  arise, 
Flushing  all  her  face  and  lightening 

The  dimmed  splendour  of  her  eyes? 
Oh !  to  watch  the  fear  and  doubtinsr 

Stir  the  sUent  depths  of  pain, 
And  the  rush  of  joy — then  melting 

Into  perfect  peace  again. 

And  the  child  ! — but  why  remember 

Foolish  fancies  that  I  thought  ? 
Every  tree  and  every  hedge-row 

From  the  well-known  past  I  brought : 
I  would  picture  my  dear  cottage, 

See  the  crackling  wood-fire  burn, 
And  the  two  beside  it  seated. 

Watching,  waiting  my  return. 

So,  at  last  we  reached  the  harbour. 

I  remember  nothing  more 
Till  I  stood,  my  sick  heart  throbbing. 

With  my  hand  upon  the  door. 
There  I  paused — I  heard  her  speaking  ; 

Low,  soft,  murmuring  words  she  said ; 


64  HOMEWARD     BOUND. 

Then  I  first  knew  the  dumb  terroi' 
I  had  had,  lest  she  were  dead. 

It  was  evening  in  late  autumn, 

And  the  gusty  wind  blew  chill ; 
Autumn  leaves  were  falling  round  me, 

And  the  red  sun  lit  the  hill. 
Six-and-twenty  years  are  vanished 

Since  then — I  am  old  and  gray — 
But  I  never  told  to  mortal 

What  I  saw,  until  this  day. 

She  was  seated  by  the  fire. 

In  her  arms  she  held  a  child, 
Whisj)ering  baby  words  caressing. 

And  then,  looking  up,  she  smiled : 
Smiled  on  him  who  stood  beside  her — 

Oh !  the  bitter  truth  Avas  told, 
In  her  look  of  trusting  fondness, — 

I  had  seen  the  look  of  old ! 

But  she  rose  and  turned  towards  me 
(Cold  and  dumb  I  waited  there) 


HOMEWARD     BOUND,  65 

With  a  shriek  of  fear  and  terror, 

And  a  white  face  of  despair. 
He  had  been  an  ancient  comrade — 

Not  a  single  word  we  said, 
While  we  gazed  upon  each  other, 

He  the  living :  I  the  dead  ! 

I  drew  nearer,  nearer  to  her. 

And  I  took  her  trembHng  hand, 
Looking  on  her  white  face,  looking 

That  her  heart  might  understand 
All  the  love  and  all  the  pity 

That  my  lips  refused  to  say — 
I  thank  God  no  thoughts  save  sorrow 

Rose  in  our  crushed  hearts  that  day. 

Bitter  tears  that  desolate  moment, 

Bitter,  hitter  tears  we  wept, 
We  three  broken  hearts  together. 

While  the  baby  smiled  and  slept. 
Tears  alone — no  words  were  spoken, 

Till  he — ^till  her  husband  said 
That  my  boy,  (I  had  forgotten 

The  poor  child,)  that  he  was  dea.'^ 


66  HOMEWARD     BOUND. 

Then  at  last  I  rose,  and,  turning, 

Wrung  his  hand,  but  made  no  sign ; 
And  I  stooped  and  kissed  her  forehead 

Once  more,  as  if  she  were  mine. 
Nothing  of  farewell  I  uttered. 

Save  in  broken  words  to  pray 
That  God  in  His  great  love  would  bless  her- 

Then  in  silence  passed  way. 

Over  the  great  restless  ocean 

For  six-and-twenty  years  I  roam ; 
AU  my  comrades,  old  and  weary, 

Have  gone  back  to  die  at  home. — 
Home  !  yes,  I  shall  reach  a  haven, 

I,  too,  shall  reach  home  and  rest ; 
I  shall  find  her  waiting  for  me 

With  our  baby  on  her  breast. 


LIFE  AND  DEATH. 

"  What  is  life,  Father  ?" 

"  A  Battle,  my  child, 

Where  the  strongest  lance  may  fail, 
Where  the  wariest  eyes  may  be  beguiled, 

And  the  stoutest  heart  may  quail. 
Where  the  foes  are  gathered  on  every  hand 

And  rest  not  day  or  night. 
And  the  feeble  little  ones  must  stand 

Li  the  thickest  of  the  fight." 

"  What  is  Death,  Father  ?» 

"  The  rest,  my  child, 

When  the  strife  and  the  toil  are  o'er ; 
The  angel  of  God,  who,  calm  and  mild. 

Says  we  need  fight  no  more ; 
Who  di-iveth  away  the  demon  band 

Bids  the  din  of  the  battle  cease ; 


68  LIFE     AND     DEATH. 

Takes  the  banner  and  spear  from  our  failing  hand, 
And  proclaims  an  eternal  Peace." 

"  Let  me  die,  Father !     I  tremble  and  fear 
To  yield  in  that  terrible  strife !" 

"  The  crown  must  be  won  for  Heaven,  dear, 

In  the  battle-field  of  life ; 
My  child,  though  thy  foes  are  strong  and  tried, 

He  loveth  the  weak  and  small ; 
The  Angels  of  Heaven  are  on  thy  side, 

And  God  is  over  all !" 


NOW. 

Rise  !  for  the  day  is  passing, 

And  you  lie  dreaming  on ; 
The  others  have  buckled  their  armour, 

And  forth  to  fight  are  gone  ; 
A  place  in  the  ranks  awaits  you, 

Each  man  has  some  part  to  play  ; 
The  Past  and  the  Future  are  nothing, 

In  the  face  of  the  stern  To-day. 

Rise  from  your  dreams  of  the  future, — 

Of  gaining  some  hard-fought  field ; 
Of  storming  some  aiiy  fortress, 

Or  bidding  some  giant  yield  ; 
Your  Future  has  deeds  of  glory, 

Of  honour  (God  grant  it  may !) 
But  your  arm  wUl  never  be  stronger. 

Or  the  need  so  great  as  To-day. 


70  NOW. 

Rise !  if  the  Past  detains  you, 

Her  sunshine  and  storms  forget ; 
No  chains  so  unworthy  to  hold  you 

As  those  of  a  vain  regret : 
Sad  or  bright,  she  is  lifeless  for  ever. 

Cast  her  phantom  arms  away, 
Nor  look  back,  save  to  learn  the  lesson 

Of  a  nobler  strife  To-day. 

Rise !  for  the  day  is  passing : 

The  low  sound  that  you  scarcely  hear 
Is  the  enemy  marching  to  battle — 

Arise !  for  the  foe  is  here ! 
Stay  not  to  sharpen  your  weapons. 

Or  the  hour  will  strike  at  last, 
When,  from  dreams  of  a  coming  battle, 

You  may  wake  to  find  it  past ! 


CLEANSING  FIEES. 

Let  thy  gold  be  cast  in  the  furnace, 

Thy  red  gold,  precious  and  bright, 
Do  not  fear  the  hungry  fire, 

With  its*  caverns  of  burning  light : 
And  thy  gold  shall  return  more  precious, 

Free  from  every  spot  and  stain ; 
For  gold  must  be  tried  by  fire ; 

As  a  heart  must  be  tried  by  pain  ! 

In  the  cruel  fire  of  Sorrow 

Cast  thy  heart,  do  not  faint  or  wail ; 
Let  thy  hand  be  firm  and  steady. 

Do  not  let  thy  spirit  quail : 
But  wait,  when  the  trial  is  over, 

And  take  thy  heart  again ; 
For  as  gold  is  tried  by  fire. 

So  a  heart  must  be  tried  by  pain ! 


72  CLEANSING     FIRES. 

I  shall  know  by  the  gleam  and  glitter 

Of  the  golden  chain  you  wear, 
By  your  heart's  calm  strength  in  loving 

Of  the  fire  they  have  had  to  bear : 
Beat  on,  true  heart,  for  ever  ; 

Shine  bright,  strong  golden  chain  ; 
And  bless  the  cleansing  fire. 

And  the  furnace  of  living  pain ! 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  WIND. 

Let  us  throw  more  logs  on  the  fire ! 

We  have  need  of  a  cheerful  light. 
And  close  rotmd  the  hearth  to  gather, 

For  the  wind  has  risen  to-night. 
With  the  mournful  sound  of  its  waiUng 

It  has  checked  the  children's  glee, 
And  it  caUs  with  a  louder  clamour 

Than  the  clamom-  of  the  sea. 

Hark  to  the  voice  of  the  wind ! 


THE     VOICE     OF     THE     AVIND.  IS 

Let  us  listen  to  what  it  is  saying, 

Let  us  hearken  to  where  it  has  been ; 
For  it  tells,  in  its  terrible  crying, 

The  fearful  sights  it  has  seen. 
It  clatters  loud  at  the  casements. 

Round  the  house  it  hurries  on. 
And  shrieks  with  redoubled  fury. 

When  we  say  "The  blast  is  gone  !" 

Hark  to  the  voice  of  the  wind ! 

It  has  been  on  the  field  of  battle, 

Where  the  dying  and  wounded  lie 
And  it  brings  the  last  groan  they  uttered. 

And  the  ravenous  vulture's  cry. 
It  has  been  where  the  icebergs  were  meeting, 

And  closed  with  a  fearful  crash ; 
On  the  shore  where  no  footstep  has  wandered, 

It  has  heard  the  waters  dash. 

Hark  to  the  voice  of  the  wind ! 

It  has  been  on  the  desolate  ocean. 
When  the  lightning  struck  the  mast ; 

It  has  heard  the  cry  of  the  drowning. 
Who  sank  as  it  hurried  past ; 


74  THE     VOICE     OP     THE     WIND. 

The  words  of  despair  and  anguish, 
That  were  heard  by  no  Hving  ear, 

The  gun  that  no  signal  answered ; 
It  brings  them  all  to  us  here. 

Hark  to  the  voice  of  the  wind  ! 

It  has  been  on  the  lonely  moorland, 

Where  the  treacherous  snow-drift  lies. 
Where  the  travellei',  spent  and  weary, 

Gasped  fainter,  and  fainter  cries ; 
It  has  heard  the  bay  of  the  bloodhounds, 

On  the  track  of  the  hunted  slave. 
The  lash  and  the  curse  of  the  master, 

And  the  groan  that  the  captive  gave. 
Hark  to  the  voice  of  the  wind ! 

It  has  swept  through  the  gloomy  forest, 

Where  the  sledge  was  urged  to  its  speed, 
Where  the  howling  wolves  were  rushing 

On  the  track  of  the  panting  steed. 
Where  the  pool  was  black  and  lonely. 

It  caught  up  a  s])lash  and  a  cry — 
Only  the  bleak  sky  heard  it, 

And  the  wind  as  it  hurried  by. 

Hark  to  the  voice  of  the  wind ! 


THE     VOICE     OF     THE     WIND.  75 

Then  throw  more  logs  on  the  fire, 

Since  the  air  is  bleak  and  cold, 
And  the  children  are  drawing  nigher, 

For  the  tales  that  the  ivind  has  told. 
So  closer  and  closer  gather 

Round  the  red  and  crackling  light ; 
And  rejoice  (while  the  wind  is  blowing) 

We  are  safe  and  warm  to-night ! 

Hark  to  the  voice  of  the  wind ! 


TREASURES. 

Let  me  count  my  treasures. 
All  my  soul  holds  dear, 

Given  me  by  dark  spirits 
Whom  I  used  to  fear. 

Through  long  days  of  anguish, 
And  sad  nights,  did  Pain 

Forge  my  shield.  Endurance, 
Bright  and  free  from  stain  ! 


76  TREASURES. 

Doubt,  ill  misty  caverns, 
'Mid  dark  horrors  sought, 

Till  my  pearless  jewel, 
Fii'th,  to  me  she  brought. 

Sorrow  (that  I  wearied 
Should  remain  so  long) 

Wreathed  my  starry  glory. 
The  bright  Crown  of  Song ! 

Strife,  that  racked  my  spirit 
Without  hope  or  rest. 

Left  the  blooming  flower, 
Patience,  on  my  breast. 

Sufiering,  that  I  dreaded, 
lofnorant  of  her  charms, 

Laid  the  fair  child.  Pity, 
Smiling,  in  my  arms. 

So  I  count  my  treasures, 
Stored  in  days  long  past ; — 

And  I  thank  the  givers. 
Whom  I  know  at  last ! 


SHINING   STARS. 

Shine,  ye  stars  of  heaven, 

On  a  world  of  pain  ! 
See  old  Time  destroying 

All  our  hoarded  gain ; 
Alt  our  sweetest  flowers, 

Every  stately  shrine, 
All  our  hard-earned  glory, 

Every  dream  divine ! 

Shine,  ye  stars  of  heaven, 

On  the  rolling  years ! 
See  how  Time,  consoling, 

Dries  the  saddest  tears, 
Bids  the  darkest  storm-cloiids 

Pass  in  gentle  rain ; 
While  ujisi^ring  in  glory. 

Flowers  and  dreams  again ! 


18  SHINING     STAKS. 

Shine,  ye  stars  of  heaven, 

On  a  world  of  fear ! 
See  how  Time,  avenging, 

BrLngeth  judgment  here ; 
Weaving  ill- won  honours 

To  a  fiery  crown  ; 
Bidding  hard  hearts  perish ; 

Casting  proud  hearts  down. 

Shine,  ye  stars  of  heaven. 

On  the  hours'  slow  flight ! 
See  how  Time,  rewarding, 

Gilds  good  deeds  with  light ; 
Pays  with  kingly  measure ; 

Brings  earth's  dearest  prize. 
Or  crowned  with  rays  diviner, 

Bids  the  end  arise ! 


WAITING. 

Wheeefore  dwell  so  sad  and  lonely, 
By  the  desolate  sea-shore  ; 

With  the  melancholy  surges 
Beating  at  your  cottage  door  ? 

"  You  shall  dweU  beside  the  castle, 
Shadowed  by  our  ancient  trees ; 

And  your  life  shall  pass  on  gently. 
Cared  for,  and  in  rest  and  ease." 

"  Lady,  one  who  loved  me  dearly 
Sailed  for  distant  lands  away ; 

And  I  wait  here  his  returning 
HopefuUy  from  day  to  day.      * 

"  To  my  door  I  bring  my  spinning, 
Watching  every  ship  I  see  ; 

Waiting,  hoping,  till  the  sunset 
Fades  into  the  western  sea. 


80  WAITING. 

"  Every  night,  behind  the  casement 

Still  I  place  a  signal  light ; 
He  will  see  its  well-known  shining 

Should  his  ship  return  at  night. 

"  Lady,  see  your  infant  smiling, 
With  its  flaxen  curling  hair ; — 

I  remember  when  your  mother 
Was  a  baby  just  as  fair. 

"  I  was  watching  then,  and  hoping ; 

Years  have  brought  great  change  to  all ; 
To  my  neighbours  in  their  cottage, 

To  you  nobles  at  the  haU. 

"  Not  to  me — for  I  am  waiting, 
And  the  years  have  fled  so  fast, 

I  must  look  at  you  to  teU  me 
That  a  weary  time  has  past ! 

"  When  I  hear  a  footstep  coming 
On  the  shingle, — years  have  fled, — 

Yet  amid  a  thousand  others, 

I  shall  know  his  quick  light  tread. 


WAITING.  81 

"  When  I  hear  (to-night,  it  may  be) 

Some  one  pausing  at  my  door, 
I  shall  know  the  gay  soft  accents, 

Heard  and  welcomed  oft  before  ! 

"  So  each  day  I  am  more  hopeful, 
He  may  come  before  the  night ; 

Every  sunset  I  feel  surer 

He  must  come  ere  morning  light. 

"  Then  I  thank  you,  noble  lady, 

But  I  cannot  do  your  Avill : 
Where  he  left  me,  he  must  find  me, 

Waiting,  watching,  hoping  still !  " 


4* 


THE  CEADLE  SONG  OF  THE  POOE. 

Hush  !  I  cannot  bear  to  see  thee 

Stretch  thy  tiny  hands  in  vain ; 
I  have  got  no  bread  to  give  thee, 

Nothing,  child,  to  ease  thy  pain. 
When  God  sent  thee  first  to  bless  me, 

Proud,  and  thankfnl  too,  was  I ; 
Now,  my  darling,  I,  thy  mother. 

Almost  long  to  see  thee  die. 

Sleep,  my  darling,  thou  art  weary ; 
God  is  good,  but  life  is  dreary. 

I  have  watched  thy  beauty  fading, 
And  thy  strength  sink  day  by  day ; 

Soon,  I  know,  will  "Want  and  Fever 
Take  thy  Kttle  life  away. 

Famine  makes  thy  fatlier  reckless, 
Hope  has  left  both  him  and  me ; 


THE  CKADLE  SONG  OF  THE  POOR.  83 

We  could  suffer  all,  my  baby, 
Had  we  but  a  crust  for  thee. 

Sleep,  my  darling,  thou  art  weary ; 
God  is  good,  but  life  is  dreary. 

Better  thou  shouldst  perish  early, 

Starve  so  soon,  my  darling  one. 
Than  live  to  want,  to  sin,  to  struggle 

Vainly  still,  as  I  have  done. 
Better  that  thy  angel  spirit 

With  my  joy,  my  peace  were  flown, 
Than  thy  heart  grow  cold  and  careless. 

Reckless,  hopeless,  like  my  own. 

Sleep,  my  darling,  thou  art  weary ; 
God  is  good,  but  life  is  dreary. 

I  am  wasted,  dear,  with  hunger. 

And  my  braia  is  all  ojoprest, 
I  have  scarcely  strength  to  press  thee. 

Wan  and  feeble,  to  my  breast. 
Patience,  baby,  God  will  help  us, 

Death  will  come  to  thee  and  me. 
He  will  take  us  to  his  Heaven, 

Where  no  want  or  pain  can  be. 


84  THE  CKADLE  SONG  OF  THE  POOR, 

Sleep,  my  darling,  thou  art  weary ; 
God  is  good,  but  life  is  dreary. 

Such  the  plaint,  that,  late  and  early, 

Did  we  Usten,  we  might  hear, 
Close  beside  us, — but  the  thunder 

Of  a  city  dulls  our  ear. 
Every  heart,  Hke  God's  bright  Angel, 

Can  bid  one  such  sorrow  cease ; 
God  has  glory  when  his  children 

Bring  his  poor  ones  joy  and  peace ! 
Listen,  nearer  while  she  sings 
Sounds  the  fluttering  of  wings ! 


BE  STRONG. 

Be  strong  to  hope^  oh  Heart ! 

Though  day  is  bright, 
The  stars  can  only  shine 

In  the  dark  night. 
Be  strong,  oh  Heart  of  mine, 

Look  towards  the  Ught ! 

Be  strong  to  hem\  oh  Heart ! 

Nothing  is  vain : 
Strive  not,  for  hfe  is  care, 

And  God  sends  pain, 
Heaven  is  above,  and  there 

Rest  will  remain ! 

Be  strong  to  love^  oh  Heart ! 
Love  knows  not  wrong, 


86  BE     STRONG. 

Didst  thou  love — creatures  even, 

Life  were  not  long ; 
Didst  thou  love  God  in  Heaven, 

Thou  wouldst  be  strong ! 


GOD'S  GIFTS. 

God  gave  a  gift  to  Earth  : — a  child, 
Weak,  innocent,  and  undefiled, 
Opened  its  ignorant  eyes  and  smiled. 

It  lay  so  heljiless,  so  forlorn, 
Earth  took  it  coldly  and  in  scorn, 
Cursing  the  day  when  it  was  bom. 

She  gave  it  first  a  tarnished  name, 
For  heritage,  a  tainted  fame, 
Then  cradled  it  in  want  and  shame. 

All  influence  of  Good  or  Right, 
All  ray  of  God's  most  holy  light, 
She  curtained  closely  from  its  sight. 


god's    gifts.  87 

Then  turned  her  heart,  her  eyes  away, 
Ready  to  look  again,  the  day 
Its  little  feet  began  to  stray. 

In  dens  of  guUt  the  baby  j^layed, 
"Where  sin,  and  sin  alone,  was  made 
The  law  that  all  around  obeyed. 

With  ready  and  obedient  care, 

He  learnt  the  tasks  they  taught  him  there  ; 

Black  sin  for  lesson — oaths  for  prayer. 

Then  Earth  arose,  and,  in  her  might, 
To  vindicate  her  injured  right. 
Thrust  him  in  deeper  depths  of  night. 

Brandmg  him  with  a  deeper  brand 
Of  shame,  he  could  not  understand, 
The  felon  outcast  of  the  land. 


God  gave  a  gift  to  Earth :— a  child, 
Weak,  innocent,  and  undefiled. 
Opened  its  ignorant  eyes  and  smiled. 


88  god'sgifts. 

And  Earth  received  the  gift,  and  cried 
Her  joy  and  triumph  far  and  wide, 
Till  echo  answered  to  her  pride. 

She  blest  the  hour  when  first  he  came 
To  take  the  crown  of  j^ride  and  fame, 
Wreathed  through  long  ages  for  his  name. 

Then  bent  her  utmost  art  and  skill 
To  train  the  supple  mind  and  will, 
And  guard  it  from  a  breath  of  ill. 

She  strewed  his  mornmg  path  with  flowers, 
And  Love,  in  tender  dropping  showers, 
Nourished  the  blue  and  dawning  hours. 

She  shed,  in  rainbow  hues  of  light, 
A  halo  round  the  Good  and  Right, 
To  tempt  and  charm  the  baby's  sight. 

And  every  step,  of  work  or  play. 
Was  lit  by  some  such  dazzling  ray, 
Till  morning  brightened  into  day. 


GOD'SGIFTS.  89 

And  then  the  world  arose  and  said — 
Let  added  honours  now  be  shed 
On  such  a  nohle  heart  and  head ! 

O  World,  both  gifts  were  pure  and  bright, 
Holy  and  sacred  m  God's  sight : — 
God  will  judge  them  and  thee  aright ! 


A  TOMB  IN  GHENT. 

A  SMILING  look  she  had,  a  figure  sHght, 
With  cheerful  air,  and  step  both  quick  and  light, 
A  strange  and  foreign  look  the  maiden  bore. 
That  suited  the  quaint  Belgian  dress  she  wore  ; 
Yet  the  blue  fearless  eyes  in  her  fair  face, 
And  her  soft  voice  told  her  of  English  race ; 
And  ever,  as  she  flitted  to  and  fro. 
She  sang,  (or  murmured,  rather,)  soft  and  low, 
Snatches  of  song,  as  if  she  did  not  know 


90  ATOMBINGHENT. 

That  she  was  singing,  but  the  happy  load 

Of  dream  and  tho  ught  thus  from  her  heart  o'er- 

flowed : 
And  while  on  household  cares  she  passed  along, 
The  air  would  bear  me  fragments  of  her  song ; 
Not  such  as  village  maidens  sing,  and  few 
The  framers  of  her  changing  music  knew ; 
Chants  such  as  heaven  and  earth  first  knew  of  when 
Allegri  and  Marcello  held  the  pen. 
But  I  with  awe  had  often  turned  the  page, 
Yellow  with  time,  and  half  defaced  by  age, 
And  listened,  with  an  ear  not  quite  unskilled, 
While  heart  and  soul  to  the  grand  echo  thrilled  ; 
And  much  I  marvelled,  as  her  cadence  fell 
From  the  Laudate,  that  I  knew  so  well, 
Into  Scarlatti's  minor  fugue,  how  she 
Had  learned  such  deep  and  solemn  harmony. 
But  what  she  told  I  set  in  rhyme,  as  meet 
To  chronicle  the  influence,  dim  and  sweet, 
'Neath  wliich  her  young  and  innocent  life  had  grown : 
Would  that  my  words  were  simple  as  her  own. 

Many  years  since  an  English  workman  went 
Over  the  seas,  to  seek  a  home  in  Ghent, 


ATOMB     IN     GHENT,  91 

Where  English  skill  was  prized,  nor  toiled  in  vain ; 
Small,  yet  enough,  his  hard-earned  daily  gain. 
He  dwelt  alone — ^in  sorrow  or  in  pride 
He  mixed  not  with  the  workers  hy  his  side ; 
He  seemed  to  care  bnt  for  one  present  joy — 
To  tend,  to  watch,  to  teach  his  sickly  boy. 
Severe  to  all  beside,  yet  for  the  child 
He  softened  his  rough  speech  to  soothings  mild ; 
For  him  he  smUed,  with  him  each  day  he  walked 
Through  the  dark  gloomy  streets;  to  him  he  talked 
Of  home,  of  England,  and  strange  stories  told 
Of  English  heroes  in  the  days  of  old ; 
And,  (when  the  sunset  gilded  roof  and  spii-e,) 
The  marvellous  tale  which  never  seemed  to  tire: 
How  the  gilt  dragon,  glaring  fiercely  down 
From  the  great  belfiy,  watching  all  the  town. 
Was  brought,  a  trophy  of  the  wars  divine. 
By  a  Crusader  from  far  Palestine, 
And  given  to  Bruges ;  and  how  Ghent  arose. 
And  how  they  struggled  long  as  deadly  foes. 
Till  Ghent,  one  night,  by  a  brave  soldier's  skill. 
Stole  the  great  dragon,  and  she  keeps  it  stUl. 
One  day  the  dragon — so  'tis  said — ^will  rise, 
Spread  his  bright  ^\dngs,  and  glitter  in  the  skies. 


92  A     TOMB     IN      GHENT, 

And  over  desert  lands  and  azure  seas, 
Will  seek  his  home  'mid  palm  and  cedar  trees. 
So,  as  he  passed  the  belfry  every  day, 
The  boy  would  look  if  it  were  flown  away  ; 
Each  day  surprised  to  find  it  watching  there. 
Above  him,  as  he  crossed  the  ancient  square, 
To  seek  the  great  cathedral,  that  had  grown 
A  home  for  him — mysterious  and  his  own. 

Dim  with  dark  shadows  of  the  ages  past, 
St.  Bavon  stands,  solemn  and  rich  and  vast ; 
The  slender  pillars  in  long  vistas  spread. 
Like  forest  arches  meet  and  close  o'erhead 
So  high,  that  hke  a  weak  and  doubting  prayer, 
Ere  it  can  float  to  the  carved  angels  there. 
The  silver  clouded  incense  faints  in  air ; 
Only  the  organ's  voice,  with  peal  on  peal. 
Can  mount  to  where  those  far-off  angels  kneel. 
Here  the  pale  boy,  beneath  a  low  side-arch. 
Would  Hsten  to  its  solemn  chant  or  march  ; 
Folding  his  httle  hands,  his  simple  prayer 
Melted  in  childish  dreams,  and  both  in  air  : 
While  the  great  organ  over  all  would  roll. 
Speaking  strange  secrets  to  his  innocent  soul. 


A     TOMB     IN     GHENT.  93 

Bearing  on  eagie-wings  the  great  desire 

Of  all  the  kneeling  throng,  and  piercing  higher 

Than  aught  but  love  and  prayer  can  reach,  until 

Only  the  silence  seemed  to  hsten  still ; 

Or  gathering  like  a  sea  still  more  and  more, 

Break  in  melodious  waves  at  heaven's  door, 

And  then  fall,  slow  and  soft,  in  tender  rain, 

Ul^on  the  pleading  longing  hearts  again. 

Then  he  would  watch  the  rosy  sunhght  glow. 
That  crept  along  the  marble  floor  below. 
Passing,  as  life  does,  with  the  passing  hours, 
Now  by  a  shrine  all  rich  with  gems  and  flowers, 
Now  on  the  brazen  letters  of  a  tomb. 
Then,  leaving  it  again  to  shade  and  gloom, 
And  creeping  on,  to  show,  distinct  and  quaint, 
The  kneeling  figure  of  some  marble  saint : 
Or  lighting  uj)  the  carvings  strange  and  rare. 
That  told  of  j^atient  toil  and  reverent  care ; 
Ivy  that  trembled  on  the  spray,  and  ears 
Of  heavy  corn,  and  slender  buh-ush  spears, 
And  all  the  thousand  tangled  weeds  that  errow 
In  summer,  where  the  silver  rivers  flow ; 
And  demon-heads  grotesque,  that  seemed  to  glare 


94  A     TOMB     IN     GHENT. 

In  impotent  wrath  on  all  the  beauty  there, 
Then  the  gold  rays  up  pillared  shaft  would  cUmh, 
And  so  be  drawn  to  heaven,  at  evening  time. 
And  deeper  silence,  darker  shadows  flowed 
On  all  around,  only  the  windows  glowed 
With  blazoned  glory,  hke  the  shields  ol  light 
Archangels  bear,  who,  armed  with  love  and  might. 
Watch  upon  heaven's  battlements  at  night. 
Then  all  was  shade,  the  silver  lamps  that  gleamed. 
Lost  in  the  daylight,  in  the  darkness  seemed 
Like  sparks  of  fire  in  the  dim  aisles  to  shine, 
Or  trembling  stars  before  each  separate  shrine. 
Grown  half  afraid,  the  child  wovdd  leave  them  there, 
And  come  out,  blinded  by  the  noisy  glare 
That  burst  upon  him  from  the  busy  square. 

The  church  was  thus  his  home  for  rest  or  play ; 
And  as  he  came  and  went  again  each  day. 
The  pictured  faces  that  he  knew  so  well, 
Seemed  to  smile  on  him  welcome  and  farewell. 
But  holier,  and  dearer  far  than  all, 
One  sacred  sj)ot  his  own  he  loved  to  call ; 
Save  at  mid-day,  half-hidden  by  the  gloom, 
The  people  call  it  The  White  Maiden's  Tomb : 


A     TOMB     IN     GHENT.  95 

For  there  she  stands ;  her  folded  hands  are  pressed 

Together,  and  laid  softly  on  her  breast, 

As  if  she  waited  but  a  word  to  rise 

From  the  dull  earth,  and  pass  to  the  blue  skies ; 

Her  Hps  expectant  part,  she  holds  her  breath, 

As  hstening  for  the  angel  voice  of  death. 

None  know  how  many  years  have  seen  her  so. 

Or  what  the  name  of  her  who  sleeps  below. 

And  here  the  chUd  would  come,  and  strive  to  trace, 

Through  the  dim  twilight,  the  pure  gentle  face 

He  loved  so  well,  and  here  he  oft  would  bring 

Some  violet  blossom  of  the  early  spring  ; 

And  chmbmg  softly  by  the  fretted  stand, 

Not  to  disturb  her,  lay  it  in  her  hand  ; 

Or  whispering  a  soft  loving  message  sweet, 

Would  stoop  and  kiss  the  little  marble  feet 

So,  when  the  organ's  peahng  music  rang, 

He  thought  amid  the  gloom  the  Maiden  sang ; 

With  reverent  simple  faith  by  her  he  knelt 

And  listened  what  she  thought,  and  what  she  felt ; 

"  Glory  to  God,"  re-echoed  from  her  voice. 

And  then  his  little  spirit  would  rejoice  ; 

Or  when  the  Requiem  sobbed  upon  the  air, 

His  baby-tears  dropped  with  her  mournful  prayer. 


96  A     TOMB     IN     GHENT. 

So  years  fled  on,  while  cliildish  fancies  past, 
The  childish  love  and  simple  faith  could  last. 
The  artist-soul  awoke  in  him,  the  flame 
Of  genius,  like  the  light  of  Heaven,  came 
Upon  his  brain,  and  (as  it  will,. if  true) 
It  touched  his  heart  and  lit  his  spirit,  too. 
His  father  saw,  and  with  a  proud  content 
Let  him  forsake  the  toil  where  he  had  spent 
His  youth's  first  years,  and  on  one  happy  day 
Of  pride,  before  the  old  man  passed  away. 
He  stood  with  quivering  lips,  and  the  big  tears 
Upon  his  cheek,  and  heard  the  dream  of  years 
Living  and  speaking  to  his  very  heart, — 
The  low  hushed  murmur  at  the  wondrous  art 
Of  him,  who  with  young  trembling  fingers  made 
The  great  church-organ  answer  as  he  played ; 
And,  as  the  uncertain  sound  grew  full  and  strong, 
Rush  with  harmonious  spirit-wings  along. 
And  thrill  with  master  power  the  breathless  throng. 

The  old  man  died,  and  years  passed  on,  and  still 
The  young  musician  bent  his  heart  and  will 
To  his  dear  toil.     St.  Bavon  now  had  grown 
More  dear  to  him,  and  even  more  his  own ; 


A     TOMB     IN     GHENT.  97 

And  as  he  left  it  eveiy  night  he  prayed 

A  moment  by  the  archway  in  the  shade, 

Kneeling  once  more  within  the  sacred  gloom 

Where  the  White  Maiden  watched  upon  her  tomb. 

BQs  hopes  of  travel  and  a  world-wide  fame, 

Cold  Time  had  sobered,  and  his  fragile  frame ; 

Content  at  last  only  in  dreams  to  roam. 

Away  from  the  tranquillity  of  home ; 

Content  that  the  poor  dwellers  by  his  side 

Saw  in  him  but  the  gentle  friend  and  guide, 

The  patient  counsellor  in  the  poor  strife 

And  petty  details  of  their  common  life, — 

Who  comforted  where  woe  and  grief  might  fall, 

Nor  slighted  any  pain  or  want  as  small, 

But  whose  great  heart  took  in  and  felt  for  all. 

Still  he  grew  famous, — many  came  to  be 

His  puj)ils  in  the  art  of  harmony. 

One  day  a  voice  floated  so  pure  and  free 

Above  his  music,  that  he  turned  to  see 

What  angel  sang,  and  saw  before  his  eyes. 

What  made  his  heart  leap  with  a  strange  surprise, 

His  own  White  Maiden,  cahn,  and  pure,  and  mUd, 

As  in  his  childish  dreams  she  sang  and  smiled, 
5 


98  A     TOMB     IN     GHENT. 

Her  eyes  raised  up  to  Heaven,  her  lips  apart, 
And  music  overflowing  from  her  heart. 
But  the  faint  bkish  that  tinged  her  cheek  betrayed 
No  marble  statue,  but  a  living  maid ; 
Perplexed  and  startled  at  his  wondering  look, 
Her  rustling  score  of  Mozart's  Sanctus  shook  ; 
The  uncertain  notes,  like  birds  within  a  snare, 
Fluttered  and  died  upon  the  trembling  air. 

Days  passed,  each  morning  saw  the  maiden  stand, 
Her  eyes  cast  down,  her  lesson  in  her  hand, 
Eager  to  study,  never  weary,  while 
Repaid  by  the  approving  word  or  smile 
Of  her  kind  master ;  days  and  months  fled  on ; 
One  day  the  pupil  from  the  choir  was  gone  ; 
Gone  to  take  hght,  and  joy,  and  youth  once  more, 
Within  the  poor  musician's  humble  door ; 
And  to  repay,  with  gentle  happy  art. 
The  debt  so  many  owed  his  generous  heart. 
And  now,  indeed,  was  one  who  knew  and  felt 
That  a  great  gift  of  God  within  him  dwelt ; 
One  who  could  listen,  who  could  understand. 
Whose  idle  work  dropped  from  her  slackened  hand. 
While  with  wet  eyes  entranced  she  stood,  nor  knew 


ATOMBIN     GHENT.  9^ 

How  the  melodious  winged  hours  flew ; 
"Who  loved  his  art  as  none  had  loved  before, 
Yet  prized  the  noble  tender  spirit  more. 
"While  the  great  organ  brought  from  far  and  near 
Lovers  of  harmony  to  praise  and  hear, 
"Unmarked  by  aught  save  what  filled  every  day. 
Duty,  and  toil,  and  rest,  years  passed  away : 
And  now  by  the  low  archway  in  the  shade 
beside  her  mother  knelt  a  little  maid, 
"Who,  through  the  great  cathedral  learned  to  roam, 
Climb  to  the  choir  and  bring  her  father  home  ; 
And  stand  demure,  and  solemn  by  his  side. 
Patient  tUl  the  last  echo  softly  died. 
Then  place  her  little  hand  in  his,  and  go 
Down  the  dark  winding  stair  to  where  below 
The  mother  knelt,  within  the  gathering  gloom 
"Waiting  and  praying  by  the  Maiden's  Tomb. 

So  their  Ufe  went,  until,  one  wuiter's  day, 
Father  and  child  came  there  alone  to  pray  ; — 
The  mother,  gentle  soul,  had  fled  away ! 
Their  life  was  altered  now,  and  yet  the  chUd 
Forgot  her  passionate  grief  m  time,  and  smiled. 
Half-wondering  why,  when  spring's  fresh  breezes 
came. 


100  A     TOMB     IN     GHENT. 

And  summer  flowers,  he  was  not  the  same. 

Half  guessing  at  the  shadow  of  his  pain, 

And  then  contented  if  he  smiled  again, 

A  sad  cold  smile,  that  passed  in  tears  away. 

As  re-assured  she  ran  once  more  to  play. 

And  now  each  year  that  added  grace  to  grace, 

Fresh  bloom  and  sunshine  to  the  young  girl's  face, 

Brought  a  strange  light  in  the  musician's  eyes, 

As  if  he  saw  some  starry  hope  arise. 

Breaking  upon  the  midnight  of  sad  skies : 

It  might  be  so  :  more  feeble  year  by  year, 

The  wanderer  to  his  resting-place  drew  near. 

One  day  the  Gloria  he  could  play  no  more, 

Echoed  its  grand  rejoicing  as  of  yore, 

His  hands  were  clasped,  his  weary  head  was  laid, 

Upon  the  tomb  where  the  White  Maiden  prayed ; 

Where  the  child's  love  first  dawned,  his  soul  first 

spoke. 
The  old  man's  heart  there  throbbed  its  last  and 

broke. 
The  grave  cathedral  that  had  nursed  his  youth, 
Had  helped  his  dreaming,  and  had  taught  him  truth. 
Had  seen  his  boyish  grief  and  baby  tears. 
And  watched  the  sorrows  and  the  joys  of  years, 


A     TOMB     IN     GHENT.  101 

Had  lit  his  fame  and  hope  with  sacred  rays, 
And  consecrated  sad  and  happy  days, — 
Had  blessed  his  happiness,  and  soothed  his  pain, 
Now  took  her  faithful  servant  home  again. 

He  rests  in  peace,  some  travellers  mention  yet 
An  organist  whose  name  they  all  forget : 
He  has  a  holier  and  a  nobler  fame 
By  poor  men's  hearths,  who  love  and  bless  the  name 
Of  a  kind  friend ;  and  in  low  tones  to-day, 
Speak  tenderly  of  him  who  passed  away. 
Too  poor  to  help  the  daughter  of  their  friend, 
They  grieved  to  see  the  little  pittance  end ; 
To  see  her  toil  and  strive  with  cheerful  heart  ; 
To  bear  the  lonely  orphan's  struggling  part ; 
They  grieved  to  see  her  go  at  last  alone 
To  English  kinsmen  she  had  never  known : 
And  here  she  came :  the  foreign  girl  soon  found 
Welcome,  and  love,  and  plenty  all  around. 
And  here  she  pays  it  back  with  earnest  will, 
By  weU-taught  housewife  watchfulness  and  skiU. 
Deep  in  her  heart  she  holds  her  father's  name, 
And  tenderly  and  j)roudly  keeps  his  fame  ; 
And  while  she  works  with  thrifty  Belgian  care. 


102  A     TOMB     IN     GHENT. 

Past  dreams  of  childhood  float  upon  the  air ; 
Some  strange  old  chant,  or  solemn  Latin  hymn 
That  echoed  through  the  old  cathedral  dim, 
When  as  a  little  child  each  day  she  went 
To  kneel  and  pray  by  an  old  tomb  in  Ghent. 


THE  ANGEL  OF  DEATH. 

Why  shouldst  thou  fear  the  beautiful  angel,  Death, 
Who  waits  thee  at  the  portals  of  the  skies, 

Ready  to  kiss  away  thy  struggling  breath. 
Ready  with  gentle  hand  to  close  thine  eyes  ? 

How  many  a  tranquil  soul  has  passed  away. 
Fled  gladly  from  fierce  pain  and  pleasures  dim, 

To  the  eternal  splendour  of  the  day; 

And  many  a  troubled  heart  still  calls  for  him. 

Spirits  too  tender  for  the  battle  here 

Have  turned  from  life,  its  hopes,  its  fears,  its 
charms ; 


THE    ANGEL     OF    DEATH.  103 

And  children,  shuddering  at  a  world  so  drear, 
Have  smiling  passed  away  into  his  arms. 

He  whom  thou  fearest  will,  to  ease  its  pain. 
Lay  his  cold  hand  upon  thy  aching  heart ; 

Will  soothe  the  terrors  of  thy  troubled  bram, 
And  bid  the  shadow  of  earth's  grief  depart. 

He  will  give  back  what  neither  time,  nor  might, 
Nor  passionate  prayer,  nor  longing  hope  restore, 

(Dear  as  to  long  blind  eyes  recovered  sight,) 
He  will  give  back  those  who  are  gone  before. 

O,  what  were  life,  if  life  were  all  ?     Thine  eyes 
Are  blinded  by  their  tears,  or  thou  wouldst  see 

Thy  treasures  wait  thee  in  the  fai'-off  skies, 

And  Death,  thy  friend,  will  give  them  all  to  thee. 


A   DKEAM. 

All  yesterday  I  was  spinning, 

Sitting  alone  in  the  sun ; 
And  the  dream  that  I  spun  was  so 

lengthy, 
It  lasted  till  day  was  done. 

I  heeded  not  cloud  or  shadow 

That  flitted  over  the  hill. 
Or  the  humming-bees,  or  the  swallows. 

Or  the  trickhng  of  the  rill. 

I  took  the  threads  for  my  sj)inning. 

All  of  blue  summer  air. 
And  a  flickering  ray  of  sunlight 

Was  woven  in  here  and  there. 

The  shadows  grew  longer  and  longer. 
The  evening  wind  passed  by, 


A     DREAM.  105 

And  the  purple  splendour  of  sunset 
Was  flooding  the  western  sky. 

But  I  could  not  leave  my  spinning, 

For  so  fau'  my  dream  had  grown, 
I  heeded  not,  hour  by  hour, 

How  the  silent  day  had  flown. 

At  last  the  grey  shadows  fell  round  me, 
And  the  night  came  dark  and  chill. 

And  I  rose  and  ran  down  the  valley. 
And  left  it  all  on  the  hill. 

I  went  up  the  hill  this  morning 

To  the  place  where  my  sj)inning  lay, 

There  was  nothing  hut  glistening  dewdroj)s 
Remained  of  my  dream  to-day. 


THE  PKESENT. 

Do  not  crouch  to-day,  and  worship 

The  old  Past,  whose  life  is  fled. 
Hush  your  voice  to  tender  reverence ; 

Crowned  he  Hes,  but  cold  and  dead : 
For  the  Present  reigns  our  monarch. 

With  an  added  weight  of  hours ; 
Honour  her,  for  she  is  mighty! 

Honour  her,  for  she  is  ours ! 

See  the  shadows  of  his  heroes 

Girt  around  her  cloudy  throne ; 
And  each  day  the  ranks  are  strengthened 

By  great  hearts  to  him  unknown ; 
Noble  things  the  great  Past  promised, 

Holy  dreams,  both  strange  and  new ; 
But  the  Present  shall  fulfil  them, 

What  he  promised,  she  shall  do. 


THE     PRESENT.  107 

She  inherits  all  his  treasures, 

She  is  heir  to  all  his  fame, 
And  the  light  that  lightens  round  her 

Is  the  lustre  of  his  name ; 
She  is  wise  with  all  his  wisdom. 

Living  on  his  grave  she  stands, 
On  her  brow  she  bears  his  laurels, 

And  his  harvests  in  her  hands. 

Coward,  can  she  reign  and  conquer 

If  we  thus  her  glory  dim  ? 
Let  us  fight  for  her  as  nobly 

As  our  fathers  fought  for  him. 
God,  who  crowns  the  dying  ages, 

Bids  her  rule,  and  us  obey — 
Bids  us  cast  our  lives  before  her. 

With  our  loving  hearts  to-day  ! 


CHANGES. 

MouKN,  O  rejoicing  heart ! 

The  hours  are  flying, 
Each  one  some  treasure  takes, 
Each  one  some  blossom  breaks, 

And  leaves  it  dying ; 
The  chill  dark  night  draws  near, 

Thy  sun  will  soon  dejsart, 

And  leave  thee  sighinor ; 
Then  mourn,  rejoicing  heart, 

The  houi's  are  flying ! 

Rejoice,  O  grieving  heart, 

The  hours  fly  fast, 
With  each  some  sorrow  dies, 
With  each  some  shadow  flies. 

Until  at  last 
The  red  dawn  in  the  east 


CHANGES.  109 


Bids  weary  night  depart, 
And  pain  is  past. 
Rejoice,  then,  grieving  heart, 
The  hours  fly  fast ! 


A  LAMENT  FOll  THE  SUMMER. 

Moan,  oh  ye  Autumn  Winds  ! 

Summer  has  fled, 
The  flowers  have  closed  their  tender 

leaves  and  die ; 
The  Lily's  gracious  head 
All  low  must  lie, 

Because  the  gentle  Summer  now  is  dead. 

Grieve,  oh  ye  Autumn  Winds ! 
— ^    Summer  lies  low, 
The  rose's  trembling  leaves  will  soon  be  shed  ; 

For  she  that  loved  her  so, 
Alas,  is  dead ; 

And  one  by  one  her  loving  children  go. 


110    A     LAMENT     FOK     THE     SUMMER. 

Wail,  oh  ye  Autumn  Winds  ! 

She  lives  no  more, 
The  gentle  Summer,  with  her  balmy  breath, 

StiU  sweeter  than  before 
When  nearer  death, 

And  brighter  every  day  the  smile  she  wore ! 

Mourn,  mourn,  oh  Autumn  Winds, 

Lament  and  mourn ; 
How  many  half-blown  buds  must  close  and  die  ; 

Hopes  with  the  Summer  born 
All  faded  lie, 

And  leave  us  desolate  and  Earth  forlorn  ! 


STRIVE,  WAIT,  AND  TEAY. 

Strive  ;  yet  I  do  not  promise 

The  prize  you  dream  of  to-day, 
Will  not  fade  when  you  think  to  grasp  it, 

And  melt  in  your  hand  away ; 
But  another  and  holier  treasure, 

You  would  now  perchance  disdam, 
Will  come  when  your  toil  is  over, 

And  pay  you  for  all  your  pain. 

Wait ;  yet  I  do  not  teU  you 

The  hour  you  long  for  now, 
Wni  not  come  with  its  radiance  vanished, 

And  a  shadow  upon  its  brow ; 
Yet  far  through  the  misty  future, 

With  a  crown  of  starry  light. 
An  hour  of  joy  you  know  not 

Is  winging  her  silent  flight. 


112         STRIVE,      WAIT,      AND     PEAY 

Pray ;  though  the  gift  you  ask  for 

May  never  comfort  your  fears. 
May  never  repay  your  pleading, 

Yet  pray,  with  hopeful  tears ; 
An  answer,  not  that  you  long  for. 

But  diviner,  will  come  one  day ; 
Your  eyes  are  too  dim  to  see  it, 

Yet  strive,  and  wait,  and  pray. 


THE  UXKXOWN  GKAVE. 

No  name  to  bid  us  know 

Who  rests  below, 
No  word  of  death  or  birth, 

Only  the  grasses  wave. 
Over  a  moimd  of  earth, 

Over  a  nameless  grave. 

Did  this  poor  wandering  heart 
In  pain  depart  ? 


THE     UNKNOWN     GKAVE.  113 

Longing,  but  all  too  late, 

For  the  calm  home  again. 
Where  patient  watchers  wait. 

And  still  will  wait  in  vain. 

Did  mourners  come  in  scorn, 

And  thus  forlorn, 
Leave  him  with  grief  and  shame. 

To  silence  and  decay. 
And  hide  the  tarnished  name 

Of  the  unconscious  clay  ? 

It  may  he  from  his  side 

His  loved  ones  died. 
And  last  of  some  bright  band, 

(Together  now  once  more,) 
He  sought  his  home,  the  land 

Where  they  were  gone  before. 

No  matter,  Umes  have  made 

As  cool  a  shade. 
And  lingering  breezes  pass 

As  tenderly  and  slow, 
As  if  beneath  the  grass 

A  monarch  slept  below. 


114  THE     UNKNOWN     GRAVE. 

No  grief,  though  loud  and  deep, 
Could  stii'  that  sleep ; 

And  earth  and  heaven  teU 
Of  rest  that  shall  not  cease 

Where  the  cold  world's  farewell 
Fades  into  endless  peace. 


GIVE  ME  THY  HEAET. 

With  echoing  steps  the  worshippers 

Departed  one  by  one. 
The  organ's  pealing  voice  was  stilled, 

The  vesper  hymn  was  done  ; 
The  shadows  feU  from  i-oof  and  arch, 

Dim  was  the  incensed  air, 
One  lamj)  alone  with  trembling  ray, 

Told  of  the  Presence  there  ! 

In  the  dark  church  she  knelt  alone ; 
Her  tears  were  falling  fast ; 


GIVE     ME     THY     HEART.  115 

"  Help,  Lord,"  she  cried,  "  the  shades  of  death 

Upon  my  soul  are  cast ! 
Have  I  not  shunned  the  path  of  sin, 

And  chosen  the  better  part  ?  " 
What  voice  came  through  the  sacred  air  ? — 

"  3Iy  child^  give  me  thy  Heart !  " 

"  Have  I  not  laid  before  Thy  shrine 

My  wealth,  oh  Lord  ?  "  she  cried ; 
"  Have  I  kept  aught  of  gems  or  gold, 

To  minister  to  pride  ? 
Have  I  not  bade  youth's  joys  retire, 

And  vain  deUghts  depart  ?  " 
But  sad  and  tender  was  the  voice, — 

"  3fy  child^  give  me  thy  Heart !  " 

"  Have  I  not,  Lord,  gone  day  by  day 

Where  Thy  poor  children  dwell ; 
And  carried  help,  and  gold,  and  food  ? 

Oh  Lord,  Thou  knowest  it  well ! 
From  many  a  house,  from  many  a  soul, 

My  hand  bids  care  depart ;  " — 
More  sad,  more  tender,  was  the  voice, — 

"  My  child,  give  me  thy  Heart  1 " 


116  GIVE     ME     THY     HEART. 

"  Have  I  not  worn  my  strength  away 

"With  fast  and  penance  sore  ? 
Have  I  not  watched  and  wept  ?  "  she  cried ; 

"  Did  Thy  dear  Saints  do  more  ? 
Have  I  not  gained  Thy  grace,  oh  Lord, 

And  won  in  Heaven  my  part  ?  " 
It  echoed  louder  in  her  soul, — 

"  My  child^  give  me  thy  Heart ! 

"  For  I  have  loved  thee  with  a  love 

No  mortal  heart  can  show ; 
A  love  so  deej),  my  Saints  in  heaven 

Its  depths  can  never  know  : 
When  pierced  and  wounded  on  the  Cross, 

Man's  sin  and  doom  were  mine, 
I  loved  thee  with  undying  love, 

Immortal  and  divine ! 

"  I  loved  thee  ere  the  skies  were  spread ; 

My  soul  bears  aU  thy  pains ; 
To  gain  thy  love  my  sacred  Heart 

In  earthly  shrines  remains : 
Vain  are  thy  oiferings,  vain  thy  sighs, 

Without  one  gift  divine ; 


GIVE     ME     THY     HEART.  117 

Give  it,  my  child,  thy  Heart  to  me, 
And  it  shall  rest  in  mine !  " 

In  awe  she  listened,  and  the  shade 

Passed  from  her  soul  away ; 
In  low  and  trembling  voice  she  cried — 

"  Lord,  help  me  to  obey ! 
Break  Thou  the  chains  of  eai-th,  oh  Lord, 

That  bind  and  hold  my  heart ; 
Let  it  be  Thine,  and  Thine  alone, 

Let  none  with  Thee  have  part. 

"  Send  down,  oh  Lord,  Thy  sacred  fire  ! 

Consume  and  cleanse  the  sin 
That  lingers  still  within  its  depths ; 

Let  heavenly  love  begin. 
That  sacred  flame  Thy  Saints  have  known, 

Kindle,  oh  Lord,  in  me. 
Thou  above  all  the  rest  for  ever, 

And  all  the  rest  in  Thee." 

The  blessing  fell  upon  her  soul ; 
Her  angel  by  her  side 


118  GIVE     ME     THY     HEART. 

Knew  that  the  hour  of  peace  was  come, 

Her  soul  was  purified : 
The  shadows  fell  from  roof  and  arch, 

Dim  was  the  incensed  air ; — 
But  Peace  went  with  her  as  she  left 

The  sacred  Presence  there ! 


THE  WAYSIDE   INN. 

A  LITTLE  past  the  village 

The  Inn  stood,  low  and  white ; 
Green  shady  trees  behind  it, 

And  an  orchard  on  the  right ; 
"Where  over  the  green  paling 

The  red-cheeked  apples  hung, 
As  if  to  watch  how  wearily 

The  sign-board  creaked  and  swung. 

The  heavy-laden  branches 
Over  the  road  huug  low. 


THE     WAYSIDE     INN.  119 

Reflecting  fruit  or  blossom 

In  the  wayside  well  below ; 
Where  childi-en,  drawing  water, 

Looked  up  and  paused  to  see, 
Amid  the  apple  branches, 

A  purple  Judas  tree. 

The  road  stretched  winding  onward 

For  many  a  weary  mile — 
So  dusty  footsore  wanderers 

Would  pause  and  rest  awhile ; 
And  panting  horses  halted, 

And  travellers  loved  to  tell 
The  quiet  of  the  wayside  inn, 

The  orchard  and  the  well. 

Here  Maurice  dwelt ;  and  often 

The  sunburnt  boy  would  stand 
Gazing  upon  the  distance, 

And  shading  with  his  hand 
His  eyes,  while  watching  vainly 

For  travellers,  who  might  need 
His  aid  to  loose  the  bridle, 

And  tend  the  weary  steed. 


120  THE     WAYSIDE     INN. 

And  once  (the  boy  remembered 

That  morning  many  a  day — 
The  dew  lay  on  the  hawthorn, 

The  bird  sang  on  the  spray) 
A  train  of  horsemen,  nobler 

Than  he  had  seen  before, 
Up  from  the  distance  gallopped, 

And  paused  before  the  door. 

Upon  a  milk-white  pony, 

Fit  for  a  faery  queen, 
Was  the  loveliest  little  damsel 

His  eyes  had  ever  seen ; 
A  servant  man  was  holding 

The  leading  rein,  to  guide 
The  pony  and  its  mistress 

"Who  cantered  by  his  side. 

Her  sunny  ringlets  round  her 
A  golden  cloud  had  made, 

While  her  large  hat  was  keeping 
Her  cahn  blue  eyes  in  shade  ; 

One  hand  held  firm  the  silken  reins 
To  keep  her  steed  in  check, 


THE     WAYSIDE     INN.  121 

The  other  pulled  his  tangled  mane, 
Or  stroked  his  glossy  neck. 


') 


And  as  the  boy  brought  water, 

And  loosed  the  rein,  he  heard 
The  sweetest  voice,  that  thanked  him 

In  one  low  gentle  word ; 
She  turned  her  blue  eyes  from  hira, 

Looked  uj),  and  smiled  to  see 
The  hanging  jiurple  blossoms 

Upon  the  Judas  Tree, 

And  showed  it  with  a  gesture, 

Half  pleading,  half  command, 
TiU  he  broke  the  fairest  blossom, 

And  laid  it  in  her  hand  ; 
And  she  tied  it  to  her  saddle 

With  a  ribbon  from  her  hair. 
While  her  happy  laugh  rang  gaily, 

Like  silver  on  the  air. 

But  the  champing  steeds  were  rested — 
The  horsemen  now  spurred  on, 
6 


122  THE     WATSIDE     INN. 

And  down  the  dusty  highway 
They  vanished  and  were  gone. 

Years  passed,  and  many  a  traveller 
Paused  at  the  old  inn-door 

But  the  httle  milk-white  pony 
And  the  child  returned  no  more. 

Years  passed,  the  apple-branches 

A  deeper  shadow  shed ; 
And  many  a  time  the  Judas  Tree, 

Blossom  and  leaf  lay  dead ; 
When  on  the  loitering  western  breeze 

Came  the  bells'  merry  sound, 
And  flowery  arches  rose,  and  flags 

And  banners  waved  around. 

Maurice  stood  there  expectant. 

The  bridal  train  would  stay 
Some  moments  at  the  inn-door, 

The  eager  watchers  say ; 
They  come — the  cloud  of  dust  draws  near- 

'Mid  all  the  state  and  pride, 
He  only  sees  the  golden  hair 

And  blue  eyes  of  the  bride. 


THE     WAYSIDE     INN.  123 

The  same,  yet,  ah,  still  fairer, 

He  knew  the  face  once  more 
That  bent  above  the  pony's  neck 

Tears  past  at  the  inn-door  : 
Her  shy  and  smiling  eyes  looked  round, 

Unconscious  of  the  place — 
Unconscious  of  the  eager  gaze 

He  fixed  upon  her  face. 

He  plucked  a  blossom  from  the  tree — 

The  Judas  Tree — and  cast 
Its  purple  fragrance  towards  the  Bride, 

A  message  from  the  Past. 
The  signal  came,  the  horses  plunged — 

Once  more  she  smiled  around : 
The  pui'iDle  blossom  in  the  dust 

Lay  trampled  on  the  ground. 

Again  the  slow  years  fleeted. 

Their  passage  only  known 
By  the  height  the  Passion-flower 

Around  the  porch  had  grown ; 
And  many  a  passing  traveller 

Paused  at  the  old  inn-door, 


124  THE     WAYSIDE     INN. 

But  the  bride,  so  fair  and  blooming, 
Returned  there  never  more. 

One  winter  morning,  IVIaurice, 

Watching  the  branches  bare, 
Rustling  and  waving  dimly 

In  the  gray  and  misty  air. 
Saw  blazoned  on  a  carriage 

Once  more  the  well-known  shield. 
The  azure  fleurs-de-lis  and  stars 

Upon  a  silver  field. 

He  looked — was  that  pale  woman, 

So  grave,  so  worn,  so  sad, 
The  child,  once  young  and  smiling. 

The  bride  once  fair  and  glad  ? 
What  grief  had  dimmed  that  glory, 

And  brought  that  dark  ecHpse 
Upon  her  blue  eyes'  radiance. 

And  paled  those  trembling  lips  ? 

What  memory  of  past  sorrow. 
What  stab  of  present  pain, 


THE     WAYSIDE     INN,  125 

Brouglit  that  deep  look  of  anguish, 

That  watched  the  dismal  rain, 
That  watched  (with  the  absent  spirit 

That  looks,  yet  does  not  see) 
The  dead  and  leafless  branches 

Upon  the  Judas  Tree. 

The  slow  dark  months  crept  onward 

Upon  their  icy  way, 
'Till  AprU  broke  in  showers, 

And  Spring  smiled  forth  in  May  ; 
Upon  the  apple-blossoms 

The  sun  shone  bright  agam, 
When  slowly  up  the  highway 

Came  a  long  funeral  train. 


"& 


The  bells  tolled  slowly,  sadly. 

For  a  noble  spirit  fled ; 
Slowly,  m  pomp  and  honour. 

They  bore  the  quiet  dead. 
Upon  a  black-plumed  charger 

One  rode,  who  held  a  shield. 
Where  azure  fleurs-de-lis  and  stars 

Shone  on  a  silver  field. 


126  THE     WAYSIDE     INN. 

'Mid  all  that  homage  given 

To  a  fluttering  heart  at  rest, 
Perhaps  an  honest  sorrow 

Dwelt  only  in  one  breast. 
One  by  the  inn-door  standing 

Watched  with  fast-dropping  tears 
The  long  procession  passing, 

And  thought  of  bygone  years. 

The  boyish,  silent  homage 

To  child  and  bride  unknown, 
The  pitying  tender  sorrow 

Kept  in  his  heart  alone, 
Now  laid  upon  the  coffin 

With  a  purjile  flower,  might  be 
Told  to  the  cold  dead  sleejier ; — 

The  rest  could  only  see 
A  fragrant  purple  blossom. 

Plucked  from  a  Judas  Tree. 


VOICES    OF  THE   PAST. 

You  wonder  that  my  tears  shoiild  floAV 
In  listening  to  that  simple  strain ; 

That  those  unskilful  sounds  should  fill 
My  soul  with  joy  and  pain — 

How  can  you  tell  what  thoughts  it  stirs 
Within  my  heart  again  ? 

You  wonder  why  that  common  phrase, 

So  all  unmeaning  to  your  ear, 
Should  stay  me  in  my  merriest  mood, 

And  thrill  my  soul  to  hear — 
How  can  you  tell  what  ancient  charm 

Has  made  me  hold  it  dear  ? 

You  marvel  that  I  turn  away 

From  all  those  flowers  so  fair  and  bright, 


128  VOICES      OF     THE     PAST. 

And  gaze  at  this  poor  herb,  till  tears 

Arise  and  dim  my  sight — 
You  cannot  tell  how  every  leaf 

Breathes  of  a  past  dehght. 

You  smile  to  see  me  turn  and  speak 
With  one  whose  converse  you  despise, 

You  do  not  see  the  dreams  of  old 
That  with  his  voice  arise — 

How  can  you  tell  what  links  have  made 
Him  sacred  in  my  eyes  ? 

O,  these  are  Voices  of  the  Past, 

Links  of  a  broken  chain, 
Wings  that  can  bear  me  back  to  Times 

Which  cannot  come  again ; — 
Yet  God  forbid  that  I  should  lose 

The  echoes  that  remain ! 


THE    Dx\RK    SIDE. 

Thou  Last  done  well,  perhaps, 

To  lift  the  bright  disguise. 
And  lay  the  bitter  truth 

Before  our  shrinking  eyes ; 
When  evil  crawls  below, 

What  seems  so  j^ure  and  fair, 
Thine  eyes  are  keen  and  true 

To  find  the  serpent  there : 
And  yet — I  turn  away. 

Thy  task  is  not  divine. 
The  evil  angels  look 

On  earth  with  eyes  Uke  thine. 

Thou  hast  done  well,  perhaps. 
To  show  how  closely  wound 

Dark  threads  of  sin  and  self 
With  our  best  deeds  are  found, 
6* 


130  THE     DAEK     SIDE, 

How  great  and  noble  hearts, 

Striving  for  lofty  aims, 
Have  still  some  earthly  cord 

A  meaner  spirit  claims ; 
And  yet — although  thy  task 

Is  well  and  fairly  done, 
Methinks  for  such  as  thee 

There  is  a  holier  one. 

Shadows  there  are,  who  dwell 

Among  us,  yet  apart, 
Deaf  to  the  claim  of  God, 

Or  kindly  human  heart ; 
Voices  of  earth  and  heaven 

Call,  but  they  tui-n  away, 
And  Love,  through  such  black  night. 

Can  see  no  hope  of  day ; 
And  yet — our  eyes  are  dim, 

And  thine  are  keener  far ; 
Then  gaze  until  thou  seest 

The  glimmer  of  some  star. 

The  black  stream  flows  along 
Whose  waters  we  despise, — 


THE     DAEK     SIDE.  131 

Show  us  reflected  there 

Some  fi-agment  of  the  skies  ; 
'Neath  tangled  thorns  and  briars, 

(The  task  is  fit  for  thee,) 
Seek  for  the  hidden  flowers, 

We  are  too  blind  to  see  ; 
Then  will  I  thy  great  gift 

A  crown  and  blessing  call ; 
Angels  look  thus  on  men. 

And  God  sees  good  in  all ! 


A  FIKST  SOEEOW. 

Arise  !  this  day  shall  shine, 

For  evermore, 
To  thee  a  star  divine 

On  Time's  dark  shore. 

Till  now  thy  soul  has  been 

All  glad  and  gay : 
Bid  it  awake,  and  look 

At  grief  to-day ! 


132  A     FIRST     SOEKOW. 

No  shade  has  come  between 

Thee  and  the  sun  ; 
Like  some  long  childish  dream 

Thy  life  has  run : 

But  now,  the  stream  has  reached 

A  dark  deep  sea, 
And  Sorrow,  dim  and  crowned. 

Is  waiting  thee. 

Each  of  God's  soldiers  bears 

A  sword  divine  : 
Stretch  out  thy  trembling  hands 

To-day  for  thine ! 

To  each  anointed  Priest 
God's  summons  came : 

Oh,  Soul,  he  speaks  to-day 
And  calls  thy  name. 

Then,  with  slow  reverent  step, 

And  beating  heai't, 
From  out  thy  joyous  days, 

Thou  must  depart. 


A     FIRST     SORROAV.  133 

And,  leaving  all  beliind, 

Come  forth,  alone, 
To  join  the  chosen  band 

Around  the  throne. 

Raise  up  thine  eyes — ^be  strong, 

Nor  cast  away 
The  crown,  that  God  has  given 

Thy  soul  to-day ! 


MURMUES. 

Why  wilt  thou  make  bright  music 
Give  forth  a  sound  of  pain  ? 

Why  wilt  thou  weave  fair  flowers 
Into  a  weary  chain  ? 

Why  turn  each  cool  grey  shadow 

Into  a  world  of  fears  ? 
Why  say  the  winds  are  wailing  ? 

Why  call  the  dewdrops  tears  ? 


134  MUKMUES. 

The  voices  of  liajjpy  nature, 

And  the  Heaven's  sunny  gleam, 

Reprove  thy  sick  heart's  fancies. 
Upbraid  thy  foolish  dream. 

Listen,  and  I  will  tell  thee 

The  song  Creation  sings. 
From  the  humming  of  bees  in  the  heather, 

To  the  flutter  of  angels'  wings. 

An  echo  rings  for  ever, 

The  sound  can  never  cease  ; 
It  speaks  to  God  of  glory. 

It  speaks  to  Earth  of  peace. 


Not  alone  did  angels  sing  it 
To  the  poor  shepherds'  ear ; 

But  the  sphered  Heavens  chant  it, 
WhUe  listening  ages  hear. 


Above  thy  peevish  wailing 
Rises  that  holy  song  ; 

Above  earth's  foolish  clamour, 
Above  the  voice  of  wrong. 


MUKMURS.  135 

No  creature  of  God's  too  lowly 

To  murmur  peace  and  praise ; 
When  the  starry  nights  grow  silent, 

Then  speak  the  sunny  days. 

So  leave  thy  sick  heart's  fancies, 

And  lend  thy  little  voice 
To  the  silver  song  of  glory 

That  bids  the  world  rejoice ! 


GIVE. 

See  the  rivers  flowing 

Downward  to  the  sea, 
Pouring  all  their  treasures 

Bountiful  and  free — 
Yet  to  help  their  giving 

Hidden  springs  arise ; 
Or,  if  need  be,  showers 

Feed  them  from  the  skies 


136  GIVE. 

Watch  the  princely  flowers 

Theu'  rich  fragrance  spread, 
Load  the  air  with  perfumes, 

From  their  beauty  shed — 
Yet  their  lavish  spending, 

Leaves  them  not  ui  dearth. 
With  fresh  life  replenished 

By  their  mother  earth ! 

Give  thy  heart's  best  treasures- 

From  fair  Nature  learn ; 
Give  thy  love, — and  ask  not, 

Wait  not  a  retm-n ! 
And  the  more  thou  spendest 

From  thy  Uttle  store, 
With  a  double  bounty, 

God  will  give  thee  more. 


MY  JOUENAL. 

It  is  a  dreaiy  evening ; 

The  shadows  rise  and  fall ; 
With  strange  and  ghostly  changes, 

They  flicker  on  the  wall. 

Make  the  charred  lo2:s  burn  briirhter ; 

I  will  show  you,  by  their  blaze, 
The  half-forgotten  record 

Of  bygone  things  and  days. 

Bring  here  the  ancient  volume ; 

The  clasp  is  old  and  worn ; 
The  gold  is  dim  and  tarnished, 

And  the  faded  leaves  are  torn. 

The  dust  has  gathered  on  it — 
There  are  so  few  who  care 

To  read  what  Time  has  written 
Of  joy  and  sorrow  there. 


138  MY     JOURNAL. 

Look  at  the  first  fair  pages ; 

Yes, — I  remember  all : 
The  joys  now  seem  so  trivial, 

The  griefs  so  poor  and  small. 

Let  us  read  the  dreams  of  glory 
That  childish  fancy  made  ; 

Turn  to  the  next  few  pages, 
And  see  how  soon  they  fade. 

Here,  where  still  waiting,  dreaming. 

For  some  ideal  Life, 
The  young  heart  all  imconscious 

Had  entered  on  the  strife. 

See  how  this  page  is  blotted : 

What — could  those  tears  be  mine  ? 

How  coolly  I  can  read  you, 

Each  blurred  and  trembling  line. 

Now  I  can  reason  calmly, 
And  looking  back  again, 

Can  see  divinest  meaning 

Threading  each  separate  pain. 


MY     JOUKNAL.  139 


Here  strong  resolve — how  broken, 
Rash  hope,  and  foolish  fear, 

And  prayers,  which  God  in  pity 
Refused  to  errant  or  hear. 


t>" 


Nay — I  will  turn  the  pages 

To  where  the  tale  is  told 
Of  how  a  dawn  diviner 

Flushed  the  dark  clouds  with  gold. 

And  see,  that  Ught  has  gilded 

The  story — nor  shall  set, 
And,  though  in  mist  and  shadow, 

You  know  I  see  it  yet. 

Here — well,  it  does  not  matter, 

I  promised  to  read  all ; 
I  know  not  why  I  falter. 

Or  why  my  tears  should  fall. 

You  see  each  grief  is  noted ; 

Yet  it  was  better  so — 
I  can  rejoice  to-day — the  pain 

Was  over,  long  ago. 


140  MY     JOUKNAL. 

I  read — ^my  voice  is  failing, 
But  you  can  understand 

How  tlie  heart  beat  that  guided 
This  weak  and  trembling  hand. 

Pass  over  that  long  struggle, 
Read  where  the  comfort  came. 

And  where  the  first  is  written 
Within  the  book  your  name. 

Again  it  comes,  and  oftener 
Linked,  as  it  now  must  be. 

With  all  the  joy  or  sorrow 
That  Life  may  bring  to  me. 

So  all  the  rest — you  know  it : 
Now  shut  the  clasi)  again, 

And  put  aside  the  record 
Of  bygone  hours  of  pain. 

The  dust  shall  gather  on  it, 
I  wiU  not  read  it  more  ; — 

Give  me  your  hand — what  was  it 
We  were  talking  of  before? 


MY     JOURNAL.  141 

I  know  not  why — ^but  tell  me 
Of  something  gay  and  bright. 

It  is  strange — ^my  heart  is  heavy, 
And  my  eyes  are  dim  to-night. 


A  CHAIN. 

The  bond  that  Unks  our  souls  together 
Will  it  last  through  stormy  weather  ? 
Will  it  moulder  and  decay 
As  the  long  hours  fleet  away  ? 
Will  it  stretch  if  Tune  divide  us, 
When  dark  weary  hours  have  tried  us  ? 
If  it  look  too  jjoor  and  slight 
Let  us  break  the  links  to-night. 

It  was  not  forged  by  mortal  hands, 
Or  clasped  with  golden  bars  and  bands ; 
Save  thine  and  mine,  no  other  eyes 
The  slender  link  can  recognize  : 


142 


A     CHAIN", 


In  the  bright  light  it  seems  to  fade — 
And  it  is  hidden  in  the  shade  ; 
While  Heaven  or  Earth  have  never  heard, 
Or  solemn  vow,  or  phghted  word ; 


Yet  what  no  mortal  hand  could  make, 
No  mortal  power  can  ever  break  ; 
What  words  or  vows  could  never  do, 
No  words  or  vows  can  make  untrue : 
And  if  to  other  hearts  unknown 
The  dearer  and  the  more  our  own, 
Because  too  sacred  and  divine 
For  other  eyes  save  thine  and  mine. 


'  5 


And  see,  though  slender,  it  is  made 
Of  Love  and  Trust,  and  can  they  fade  ? 
While,  if  too  slight  it  seem,  to  bear 
The  breathings  of  the  simimer  air, 
We  know  that  it  could  bear  the  weight 
Of  a  most  heavy  heart  of  late, 
And  as  each  day  and  hour  has  flown 
Stronger  for  its  great  burden  grown. 


A     CHAIN.  143 

And,  too,  we  know  and  feel  again 
It  has  been  sanctified  by  pain. 
For  what  God  deigns  to  try  with  sorrow 
He  means  not  to  decay  to-morrow, 
But  through  that  fiery  trial  last 
When  earthly  ties  and  bonds  are  past ; 
What  slighter  things  dare  not  endure 
Will  make  our  Love  more  safe  and  pure. 

Love  shaU  be  purified  by  Pain, 
And  Pain  be  soothed  by  Love  again ; 
So  let  us  now  take  heart  and  go 
Cheerfully  on,  through  joy  and  woe ; 
No  change  the  summer  sun  can  bring, 
Or  even  the  changing  skies  of  spring, 
Or  the  bleak  winter's  stormy  weather. 
For  we  shaU  meet  them,  Love,  together ! 


THE    PILGRIMS. 

The  way  is  long  and  dreary, 
The  path  is  hleak  and  bare : 
Our  feet  are  worn  and  weary, 
But  we  will  not  despair. 
More  heavy  was  Thy  burden, 
More  desolate  Thy  way ; 
Oh  Lamb  of  God  who  takest 
The  sin  of  the  world  away, 
Save  mercy  on  us. 

The  snows  lie  thick  around  us 
In  the  dark  and  gloomy  night ; 
.And  the  tempest  wails  above  us, 
And  the  stars  have  hid  their  light ; 
But  blacker  was  the  darkness 
Round  Calvary's  Cross  that  day ; — 
Oh  Lamb  of  God  who  takest 
The  sin  of  the  world  away, 
Have  mercy  on  us. 


THE     PILGRIMS.  145 

Oui*  hearts  are  faint  with  sorrow, 
Heavy  and  hard  to  bear ; 
For  we  dread  the  bitter  morrow, 
But  we  will  not  despair  ; 
Thou  knowest  all  our  anguish, 
And  Thou  wilt  bid  it  cease, — 
Oh  Lamb  of  God  who  takest 
The  sin  of  the  world  away, 
Give  ns  Thy  Peace  ! 


INCOMPLETENESS. 

Nothing  resting  in  its  oWn  completeness 
Can  have  worth  or  beauty ;  but  alone 
Because  it  leads  and  tends  to  farther  sweetness, 
Fuller,  higher,  deejjer  than  its  own. 

Spring's  real  glory  dwells  not  in  the  meaning. 
Gracious  though  it  be,  of  her  blue  hours; 
But  is  hidden  in  her  tender  leaning 
Towards  the  Summer's  richer  wealth  of  flowers. 

7 


146  INCOMPLETENESS. 

Dawn  is  fair,  because  her  mists  fade  slowly 
Into  Day,  which  floods  the  world  with  light; 
TwiUght's  mystery  is  so  sweet  and  holy 
Just  because  it  ends  in  starry  Night. 

Life  is  only  bright  when  it  proceedeth 
Towards  a  truer  deeper  Life  above ; 
Human  Love  is  sweetest  when  it  leadeth 
To  a  more  divine  and  perfect  Love. 

Childhood's  smiles  unconscious  graces  borrow 
From  Strife,  that  in  a  far-off  future  Hes ; 
And  angel  glances  (veiled  now  by  Life's  sorrow) 
Draw  our  hearts  to  some  beloved  eyes. 

Learn  the  mystery  of  Progression  duly : 
Do  not  caU  each  glorious  change  Decay ; 
But  know  we  only  hold  our  treasures  truly, 
When  it  seems  as  if  they  passed  away. 

Nor  dare  to  blame  God's  gifts  for  incompleteness ; 
In  that  want  their  beauty  lies  :  they  roll 
Towards  some  infinite  depth  of  love  and  sweetness, 
Bearing  onward  man's  reluctant  soul. 


A  LEGEND  OF  BKEGENZ. 

Girt  round  with  rugged  mountains 

The  fair  Lake  Constance  lies ; 
Li  her  blue  heart  reflected, 

Shine  back  the  starry  skies ; 
And  watching  each  white  cloudlet 

Float  silently  and  slow, 
You  think  a  piece  of  Heaven 

Lies  on  our  earth  below  ! 

Midnight  is  there :  and  silence 

Enthroned  in  Heaven,  looks  down 
Upon  her  own  calm  mirror. 

Upon  a  sleeping  town : 
For  Bregenz,  that  quaint  city 

Upon  the  Tyrol  shore, 
Has  stood  above  Lake  Constance, 

A  thousand  years  and  more. 


148  A     LEGEND      OF     BREGENZ. 

Her  battlements  and  towers, 

Upon  their  rocky  steep, 
Have  cast  their  trembling  shadow 

For  ages  on  the  deep ; 
Mountain,  and  lake,  and  valley, 

A  sacred  legend  know. 
Of  how  the  town  was  saved  one  night, 

Three  hundred  years  ago. 

Far  from  her  home  and  kindred, 

A  Tyrol  maid  had  fled, 
To  serve  in  the  Swiss  valleys. 

And  toil  for  daily  bread ; 
And  every  year  that  fleeted 

So  sUently  and  fast. 
Seemed  to  bear  farther  from  her 

The  memory  of  the  Past. 

She  served  kind,  gentle  masters, 
Nor  asked  for  rest  or  change  ; 

Her  friends  seemed  no  more  new  ones, 
Their  speech  seemed  no  more  strange ; 

And  when  she  led  her  cattle 
To  pasture  every  day. 


A     LEGEND     OP     BREGENZ.  149 

She  ceased  to  look  and  wonder 
On  which  side  Bregenz  lay. 

She  spoke  no  more  of  Bregenz, 

With  longing  and  vnih  tears ; 
Her  Tyrol  home  seemed  faded 

In  a  deep  mist  of  years ; 
She  heeded  not  the  rumours 

Of  Austrain  war  or  strife ; 
Each  day  she  rose  contented, 

To  the  calm  toils  of  life. 

Yet,  when  her  master's  children 

Would  clustering  round  her  stand, 
She  sang  them  the  old  ballads 

Of  her  own  native  land ; 
And  when  at  moi'n  and  evening 

She  knelt  before  God's  throne. 
The  accents  of  her  childhood 

Rose  to  her  lips  alone. 

And  so  she  dwelt :  the  valley 
More  ijeaceful  year  by  year ; 


150  A     LEGEND     OF     BEEGENZ. 

When  suddenly  strange  portents, 
Of  some  great  deed  seemed  near. 

The  golden  corn  was  bending 
Upon  its  fragile  stalk, 

While  farmers,  heedless  of  their  fields, 
Paced  up  and  down  in  talk. 

The  men  seemed  stern  and  altered, 

With  looks  cast  on  the  ground ; 
With  anxious  faces,  one  by  one, 

The  women  gathered  round ; 
All  talk  of  flax,  or  spinning, 

Or  work,  was  put  away ; 
The  very  children  seemed  afraid 

To  go  alone  to  play. 

One  day,  out  in  the  meadow 

With  strangers  from  the  town, 
Some  secret  plan  discussing, 

The  men  walked  up  and  down. 
Yet,  now  and  then  seemed  watching, 

A  strange  uncertain  gleam. 
That  looked  like  lances  'mid  the  trees, 

That  stood  below  the  stream. 


A     LEGEND     OF     BEEGENZ.  151 

At  eve  they  all  assembled, 

All  care  and  doubt  were  fled ; 
With  jovial  laugh  they  feasted, 

The  board  was  nobly  spread. 
The  elder  of  the  village 

Rose  up,  his  glass  in  hand. 
And  cried,  "  We  drink  the  downfal 

"  Of  an  accursed  land ! 

"  The  night  is  growing  darker, 

"  Ere  one  more  day  is  flown, 
"  Bregenz,  our  foemen's  stronghold, 

"  Bregenz  shaU  be  our  own ! " 
The  women  shrank  in  terror, 

(Yet  Pride,  too,  had  her  part,) 
But  one  poor  Tyrol  maiden 

Felt  death  within  her  heart. 

Before  her,  stood  fair  Bregenz, 
Once  more  her  towers  arose ; 

What  were  the  friends  beside  her  ? 
Only  her  country's  foes  ! 

The  faces  of  her  kinsfolk, 
The  days  of  childhood  flown. 


152  A     LEGEND     OP     BEEGENZ. 

The  echoes  of  her  mountains 
Reclaimed  her  as  their  own  ! 

Nothing  she  heard  around  her, 

(Though  shouts  rang  forth  again,) 
Gone  were  the  green  Swiss  valleys, 

The  pasture,  and  the  plain ; 
Before  her  eyes  one  vision, 

And  in  her  heai*t  one  cry, 
That  said,  "  Go  forth,  save  Bregenz, 

And  then,  if  need  be,  die ! " 

With  trembling  haste  and  breathless, 

With  noiseless  step  she  sped; 
Horses  and  weary  cattle 

Were  standing  in  the  shed ; 
She  loosed  the  strong  white  charger. 

That  fed  from  out  her  hand, 
She  mounted  and  she  turned  his  head 

Towards  her  native  land. 

Out — out  into  the  darkness- 
Faster,  and  still  more  fast ; 


A     LEGEND      OF     BEEGENZ.  153 

The  smooth  grass  flies  behind  her, 

The  chestnut  wood  is  past ; 
She  looks  up ;  clouds  are  heavy  : 

Why  is  her  steed  so  slow  ? — 
Scarcely  the  wind  beside  them, 

Can  pass  them  as  they  go. 

"  Faster !  "  she  cries,  "  O  faster ! " 

Eleven  the  church-beUs  chime ; 
"  O  God,"  she  cries,  "  help  Bregenz, 

And  bring  me  there  in  time !  " 
But  louder  than  beUs'   ringing, 

Or  lowing  of  the  krne. 
Grows  nearer  in  the  midnight 

The  rushing  of  the  Rhine. 

Shall  not  the  roaring  waters 

Then-  headlong  gaUop  check  ? 
The  steed  draws  back  in  terror, 

She  leans  above  his  neck 
To  watch  the  flowing  darkness. 

The  bank  is  high  and  steep. 
One  pause — he  staggers  forward. 

And  plunges  in  the  deep. 


154  A     LEGEND     OF     BKEGENZ. 

She  strives  to  pierce  the  blackness, 

And  looser  throws  the  rein ; 
Her  steed  must  breast  the  waters 

That  dash  above  his  mane. 
How  gallantly,  how  nobly, 

He  struggles  through  the  foam, 
And  see — in  the  far  distance. 

Shine  out  the  hghts  of  home ! 

Up  the  steej)  bank  he  bears  her, 

And  now  they  rush  again 
Towards  the  heights  of  Bregenz, 

That  tower  above  the  plain. 
They  reach  the  gate  of  Bregenz, 

Just  as  the  midnight  rings. 
And  out  come  serf  and  soldier 

To  meet  the  news  she  brings. 

Bregenz  is  saved !     Ere  daylight 
Her  battlements  are  manned ; 

Defiance  greets  the  army 
That  marches  on  the  land. 

And  if  to  deeds  heroic 
Should  endless  fame  be  paid, 


A     LEGEND     OF     BEEGENZ.  155 

Bre2:enz  does  well  to  honour 
The  noble  Tyrol  maid. 

Three  hundred  years  are  vanished, 

And  yet  upon  the  hill 
An  old  stone  gateway  rises, 

To  do  her  honour  still. 
And  there,  when  Bregenz  women 

Sit  spinning  in  the  shade, 
They  see  in  quaint  old  carving 

The  Charger  and  the  Maid. 

And  when,  to  guard  old  Bregenz, 

By  gateway,  street,  and  tower, 
The  warder  paces  all  night  long. 

And  calls  each  passing  hour : 
"  Nine,"  "  ten,"  "  eleven,"  he  cries  aloud, 

And  then  (O  crown  of  Fame ! ) 
When  midnight  pauses  in  the  skies. 

He  calls  the  maiden's  name  ! 


A.  FAEEWELL. 

Fakewell,  oh  Dream  of  mine  ! 

I  dare  not  stay ; 
The  hour  is  come,  and  time 

Will  not  delay : 
Pleasant  and  dear  to  me 

Wilt  thou  remain, 
No  ffiture  hour 

Brings  thee  again. 

She  stands,  the  Future  dim. 

And  draws  me  on ; 
And  shows  me  dearer  joys — 

But  thou  art  gone ! 
Treasures  and  Hopes  more  fair, 

Bears  she  for  me. 
And  yet  I  linger, 

O  dream,  with  thee ! 


A     FAREWELL.  157 

^Othei'  and  brighter  clays, 

PerliajDS  she  brings ; 
Deeper  and  hoher  songs, 

Perchance  she  sings ; 
But  thou  and  I,  fair  time. 

We  two  must  sever ; 
Oh  dream  of  mine, 

Farewell  for  ever ! 


SOWmG   AND  EEAPmO. 

Sow  with  a  generous  hand ; 

Pause  not  for  toil  or  paia  ; 
Weary  not  through  the  heat  of  summer, 

Weary  not  through  the  cold  spring  rain ; 
But  wait  till  the  autumn  comes 

For  the  sheaves  of  golden  grain. 

Scatter  the  seed,  and  fear  not, 
A  table  wUl  be  spread ; 


158  SOWING     AND     REAPING. 

What  matter  if  you  are  too  weary 
To  eat  your  hard-earned  bread : 

Sow,  while  the  earth  is  broken, 
For  the  hungry  must  be  fed. 

Sow ; — while  the  seeds  are  lying 
In  the  warm  earth's  bosom  deep, 

And  your  warm  tears  fall  upon  it — 
They  will  stir  in  their  quiet  sleep ; 

And  the  green  blades  rise  the  quicker, 
Perchance,  for  the  tears  you  weep. 

Then  sow ; — for  the  hours  are  fleeting, 
And  the  seed  must  fall  to-day ; 

And  care  not  what  hands  shall  reap  it, 
Or  if  you  shall  have  passed  away 

Before  the  waving  corn-fields 
Shall  gladden  the  sunny  day. 

Sow ;  and  look  onward,  upward, 
Where  the  starry  light  appears — 

Where,  in  spite  of  the  coward's  doubting, 
Or  your  own  heart's  trembling  fears, 

You  shall  reap  in  joy  the  harvest 
You  have  sown  to-day  in  tears. 


THE  STORM. 

The  tempest  rages  wild  and  high, 
The  waves  lift  up  their  voice  and  cry 
Fierce  answers  to  the  angry  sky, — 
Miserere  Domine. 

Through  the  black  night  and  driving  rain, 
A  ship  is  struggling,  all  in  vain 
To  live  upon  the  stormy  maui ; — 

Miserere  Domine. 

The  thimders  roar,  the  lightnings  glare, 
Vain  is  it  now  to  strive  or  dare  ; 
A  cry  goes  up  of  great  despaii", — 

Miserere  Domine. 

The  stormy  voices  of  the  main, 
The  moaning  wind,  and  pelting  rain 
Beat  on  the  nursery  window  pane : — 
Miserere  Domiiie. 


160  THE     STORM. 

Warm  curtained  was  the  little  bed, 
Soft  pillowed  was  the  little  head ; 
"  The  storm  will  wake  the  child,"  they  said 
Miserere  Domine. 

Cowering  among  his  pillows  white 
He  prays,  his  blue  eyes  dim  with  fright, 
"  Father,  save  those  at  sea  to-night !  " — 
Miserere  Domine. 

The  morning  shone  all  clear  and  gay. 
On  a  ship  at  anchor  in  the  bay, 
And  on  a  little  child  at  play, — 

Gloria  tibi  Dotnine  I 


WOEDS. 

WoEDS  are  lighter  than  the  cloud-foam 
Of  the  restless  ocean  spray ; 

Vainer  than  the  trembling  shadow- 
That  the  next  hour  steals  away. 

By  the  fall  of  summer  raindrops 
Is  the  air  as  deeply  sth-red ; 

And  the  rose-leaf  that  we  tread  on 
Will  outHve  a  word. 

Yet  on  the  dull  silence  breaking 

With  a  lightning  flash,  a  Word, 
Bearing  endless  desolation 

On  its  blighting  wings,  I  heard  : 
Earth  can  forge  no  keener  weapon, 

Dealing  surer  death  and  pain, 
And  the  cruel  echo  answered 

Through  long  years  again. 


162  wo  EDS. 

I  have  known  one  word  hang  starlike 

O'er  a  dreary  waste  of  years, 
And  it  only  shone  the  brighter 

Looked  at  through  a  mist  of  tears ; 
While  a  weary  wanderer  gathered 

Hope  and  heart  on  Life's  dark  way, 
By  its  faithful  promise,  shining 

Clearer  day  by  day. 

I  have  known  a  spii'it,  calmer 

Than  the  calmest  lake,  and  clear 
As  the  heavens  that  gazed  upon  it, 

"With  no  wave  of  hope  or  fear ; 
But  a  storm  had  swept  across  it. 

And  its  deepest  depths  were  stirred, 
(Never,  never  more  to  slumber,) 

Only  by  a  word. 

I  have  known  a  word  more  gentle 
Than  the  breath  of  summer  air, 

In  a  listening  heart  it  nestled, 
And  it  lived  for  ever  there. 

Not  the  beating  of  its  i>rison 
Stirred  it  ever,  night  or  day : 


WORDS.  163 

Only  with  the  heart's  last  throbbing 
Could  it  fade  away. 

Words  are  mighty,  words  are  living : 

Serpents  with  their  venomous  stings, 
Or  bright  angels,  crowding  round  us, 

With  heaven's  light  uj)on  their  wings : 
Every  word  has  its  own  spu-it. 

True  or  false,  that  never  dies  ; 
Every  word  man's  lips  have  uttered 

Echoes  in  God's  skies. 


A  LOYE   TOKEN. 

Do  you  grieve  no  costly  offering 
To  the  Lady  you  can  make  ? 

One  there  is,  and  gifts  less  worthy 
Queens  have  stooped  to  take. 

Take  a  Heart  of  virgin  silver, 
Fashion  it  with  heavy  blows. 


164  A     LOVE     TOKEN. 


Cast  it  then  in  Love's  hot  furnace 
When  it  fiercest  glows. 


With  Pain's  sharpest  point  transfix  it, 

And  then  carv^e  in  letters  fair, 
Tender  dreams  and  quaint  devices, 

Fancies  sweet  and  rare. 

Set  within  it  Hope's  blue  sapphire, 

Many  changing  opal  fears, 
Blood-red  ruby-stones  of  daring 

Mixed  with  pearly  tears. 

And  when  you  have  wrought  and  laboured 

Till  the  gift  is  all  complete, 
You  may  humbly  lay  your  offering 

At  the  Lady's  feet. 

Should  her  mood  perchance  be  gracious, — 

With  disdainful  smiUng  pride. 
She  will  place  it  with  the  trinkets 

Glittering  at  her  side. 


A  TEYST   WITH   DEATH. 

I  AM  footsore  and  very  weary, 
But  I  travel  to  meet  a  Friend : 

The  way  is  long  and  dreary, 

But  I  know  that  it  soon  must  end. 

He  is  travelling  fast  like  the  whirlwind, 
And  though  I  creep  slowly  on, 

We  are  drawing  nearer,  nearer. 
And  the  journey  is  almost  done ! 

Through  the  heat  of  many  summers, 
Through  many  a  spring-time  rain, 

Thi'ough  long  autumns  and  weary  winters, 
I  have  hoped  to  meet  him,  in  vain. 

I  know  that  he  wiU  not  fail  me. 
So  I  count  every  hour  chime. 


166  A     TRYST     WITH     DEATH, 


Every  throb  of  my  own  heart's  beating, 
That  tells  of  the  flight  of  Time. 


On  the  day  of  my  birth  he  plighted 

His  kingly  word  to  me : — 
I  have  seen  him  in  dreams  so  often, 
That  I  know  what  his  smile  must  be. 

I  have  toiled  through  the  sunny  woodland, 

Through  fields  that  basked  in  the  light, 
And  through  the  lone  paths  in  the  forest 
'  I  crept  in  the  dead  of  night. 

I  will  not  fear  at  his  coming, 
Although  I  must  meet  him  alone ; 

He  will  look  in  my  eyes  so  gently. 
And  take  my  hand  in  his  own. 

Like  a  dream  all  my  toil  will  vanish. 
When  I  lay  my  head  on  his  breast ; 

But  the  journey  is  very  weary, 
And  he  only  can  give  me  rest ! 


FIDELIS. 

You  have  taken  back  the  promise 

That  you  spoke  so  long  ago ; 
Taken  back  the  heart  you  gave  me — 

I  must  even  let  it  go. 
Where  Love  once  hath  breathed,  Pride  dieth ; 

So  I  struggled,  but  in  vain. 
First  to  keep  the  links  together, 

Then  to  piece  the  broken  chain. 

But  it  might  not  be — so  freely 

All  your  friendship  I  restore. 
And  the  heart  that  I  had  taken 

As  my  own  for  evermore. 
No  shade  of  reproach  shall  touch  you, 

Dread  no  more  a  claim  from  me ; — 
But  I  wiU  not  have  you  fancy 

That  I  count  myself  as  free. 

I  am  bound  with  the  old  promise  ; 
What  can  break  that  golden  chain  ? 


168  FI  DELIS. 

Not  even  the  words  that  you  have  spoken, 

Or  the  sharpness  of  my  pain ; 
Do  you  think,  because  you  fail  me 

And  draw  back  your  hand  to-day. 
That  from  out  the  heart  I  gave  you 

My  strong  love  can  fade  away  ? 

It  win  live.     No  eyes  may  see  it, 

In  my  soul  it  will  lie  deep, 
Hidden  fi-om  all ;  but  I  shall  feel  it 

Often  stirring  in  its  sleep. 
So  remember,  that  the  fi-iendship 

Which  you  now  think  poor  and  vain, 
Will  endure  in  hope  and.  patience. 

Till  you  ask  for  it  again. 

Perhaps  in  some  long  twilight  hour, 

Like  those  we  have  known  of  old. 
When  past  shadows  gather  round  you. 

And  your  present  friends  grow  cold. 
You  may  stretch  your  hands  towards  me, — 

Ah !  you  will — I  know  not  when — 
I  shall  nurse  my  love  and  keep  it 

Faithfully  for  you,  till  then. 


A  SHADOW. 

What  lack  the  valleys  and  moimtains 

That  once  were  green  and  gay  ? 
What  lack  the  babbling  fountains  ? 
Their  voice  is  sad  to-day. 

Only  the  sound  of  a  voice, 
Tender  and  sweet  and  low, 
That  made  the  earth  rejoice, 
A  year  ago  ! 

What  lack  the  tender  flowers  ? 

A  shadow  is  on  the  sun : 
What  lack  the  merry  hours, 

That  I  long  that  they  were  done  ? 
Only  two  smiling  eyes, 
That  told  of  joy  and  mirth ; 
They  are  shining  in  the  skies, 
I  mourn  on  earth  ! 
8 


170  A     SHADOW. 

What  lacks  my  Iieai't,  that  makes  it 

So  weary  and  full  of  pain, 
That  trembling  Hope  forsakes  it, 
Never  to  come  again  ? 
Only  another  heart, 
Tender  and  all  mine  own, 
In  the  stiU  grave  it  lies, 
I  weep  alone ! 


THE  SAILOE  BOY. 

Mt  Life  you  ask  of?  why,  you  know 
Full  soon  my  little  Life  is  told ; 
It  has  had  no  great  joy  or  woe. 
For  I  am  only  twelve  years  old. 
Ere  long  I  hope  I  shall  have  been 
On  my  first  voyage,  and  wonders  seen. 
From  princess  I  may  heli^  to  fi.*ee 
Some  pirates  on  a  fai'-ofi"  sea ; 
Or,  on  some  desert  isle  be  left. 
Of  friends  and  shipmates  all  bereft. 


THE     SAILOR     BOY.  l7l 

For  the  first  time  I  venture  forth, 
From  our  bhie  mountains  of  the  north. 
My  kinsman  kept  the  lodge  that  stood 
Guardmg  the  entrance  near  the  wood, 
By  the  stone  gateway  grey  and  old. 
With  quaint  devices  carved  about. 
And  broken  shields ;  while  dragons  bold 
Glared  on  the  common  world  without ; 
And  the  long  trembling  ivy  spray 
Half  hid  the  centuries'  decay. 
In  solitude  and  silence  grand 
The  castle  towered  above  the  land  : 
The  castle  of  the  Earl,  whose  name 
(Wrapped  in  old  bloody  legends)  came 
Down  through  the  times  when  Truth  and  Right 
Bent  down  to  arm6d  Pride  and  Might. 
He  o^vned  the  country  far  and  near ; 
And,  for  some  weeks  in  every  year, 
(When  the  brown  leaves  were  falling  fast 
And  the  long,  lingering  autumn  passed,) 
He  would  come  down  to  hunt  the  deer. 
With  hound  and  horse  in  splendid  pride. 
The  story  lasts  the  live-long  year, 
The  peasant's  winter  evening  fills. 


172  THE     SAILOR     BOY, 

When  he  is  gone  and  they  abide 
In  the  lone  quiet  of  their  hills. 

I  longed,  too,  for  the  happy  night, 
When  all  with  torches  flaring  bright 
The  crowding  villagers  would  stand, 
A  j)atient,  eager,  waiting  band, 
Until  the  signal  ran  like  flame — 
"They  come! "  and,  slackening  speed,  they  came. 
Outriders  first,  in  pomp  and  state. 
Pranced  on  their  horses  through  the  gate  ; 
Then  the  four  steeds  as  black  as  night, 
All  decked  with  trappings  blue  and  white. 
Drew  through  the  crowd  that  opened  wide, 
The  Earl  and  Countess  side  by  side. 
The  stern  grave  Earl,  with  formal  smUe 
And  glistening  eyes  and  stately  pride, 
Could  ne'er  my  childish  gaze  beguile 
From  the  fair  presence  by  his  side. 
The  lady's  soft  sad  glance,  her  eyes 
(Like  stars  that  shone  in  summer  skies,) 
Her  pure  white  face  so  calmly  bent, 
With  gentle  greetings  round  her  sent ; 
Her  look,  that  always  seemed  to  gaze 


THE     SAILOK     BOY.  I'JS 

Where  the  bkie  past  had  closed  again 
Over  some  happy  shipwrecked  days, 
With  all  their  freight  of  love  and  pain. 
She  did  not  even  seem  to  see 
The  Uttle  lord  upon  her  knee. 
And  yet  he  was  hke  angel  fair, 
With  rosy  cheeks  and  golden  hair, 
That  fell  on  shoulders  white  as  snow : 
But  the  blue  eyes  that  shone  below 
His  clustering  rings  of  auburn  curls, 
Were  not  his  mother's,  but  the  Earl's. 

I  feared  the  Earl,  so  cold  and  grim, 
I  never  dared  be  seen  by  him. 
When  through  our  gate  he  used  to  ride. 
My  kinsman  Walter  bade  me  hide  ; 
He  said  he  was  so  stern. 
So,  when  the  hunt  came  past  our  way, 
I  always  hastened  to  obey. 
Until  I  heard  the  bugles  play 
The  notes  of  their  return. 
But  she — my  very  heart-strings  stir 
Whene'er  I  speak  or  think  of  her — 
The  whole  wide  world  could  never  see 


174  THE     SAILOK     BOY. 

A  noble  lady  such  as  she, 
So  full  of  angel  charity. 

Strange  things  of  her  our  neighbours  told 
In  the  long  winter  evenings  cold, 
Around  the  fire.     They  would  draw  near 
And  speak  half- whispering,  as  in  fear  ; 
As  if  they  thought  the  Earl  could  hear 
Their  treason  'gainst  his  name. 
They  thought  the  story  that  his  pride 
Had  stooped  to  wed  a  low-born  bride, 
A  stain  upon  his  fame. 
Some  say  'twas  false ;  there  could  not  be 
Such  blot  on  his  nobUity : 
But  others  vowed  that  they  had  heard 
The  actual  story  word  for  word. 
From  one  who  well  my  lady  knew. 
And  had  declared  the  story  true. 

In  a  far  village,  little  known. 
She  dwelt — so  ran  the  tale — alone. 
A  widowed  bride,  yet,  oh !  so  bright, 
Shone  through  the  mist  of  grief,  her  charms ; 
They  said  it  was  the  loveliest  sight, — 


THE     SAILOR     BOY.  ITS 

She  with  her  baby  in  her  arms. 

The  Earl,  one  summer  morning,  rode 

By  the  sea-shore  where  she  abode ; 

Again  he  came, — that  vision  sweet 

Drew  him  reluctant  to  her  feet. 

Fierce  must  the  struggle  in  his  heart 

Have  been,  between  his  love  and  pride, 

Until  he  chose  that  wondrous  part, 

To  ask  her  to  become  his  bride. 

Yet,  ere  his  noble  name  she  bore, 

He  made  her  vow  that  nevermore 

She  would  behold  her  chUd  again, 

But  hide  his  name  and  hers  from  men. 

The  trembling  promise  duly  spoken. 

All  links  of  the  low  past  were  broken ; 

And  she  arose  to  take  her  stand 

Amid  the  nobles  of  the  land. 

Then  all  Avould  wonder, — could  it  be 

That  one  so  lowly  born  as  she. 

Raised  to  such  height  of  bhss,  should  seem 

StUl  living  in  some  weary  dream  ? 

'Tis  true  she  bore  with  calmest  grace 

The  honours  of  her  lofty  place. 

Yet  never  smiled,  in  peace  or  joy, 


176  THE     SAILOR     BOY. 

Not  even  to  greet  her  princely  boy. 
She  heard,  with  face  of  white  despair, 
The  cannon  thunder  through  the  air, 
That  she  had  given  the  Earl  an  heir. 
Nay,  even  more,  (they  whispered  low, 
As  if  they  scarce  durst  fancy  so,) 
That,  through  her  lofty  wedded  life, 
No  word,  no  tone,  betrayed  the  wife. 
Her  look  seemed  ever  in  the  past : 
Never  to  him  it  grew  more  sweet ; 
The  self-same  weary  glance  she  cast 
Upon  the  grey-hound  at  her  feet. 
As  upon  him,  who  bade  her  claim 
The  croMTiing  honour  of  his  name. 

This  gossip,  if  old  Walter  heard. 
He  checked  it  with  a  scornful  word  : 
I  never  durst  such  tales  repeat ; 
He  was  too  serious  and  discreet 
To  speak  of  what  his  lord  might  do ; 
Besides,  he  loved  my  lady  too : 
And  many  a  time,  I  recollect. 
They  were  together  in  the  wood ; 
He,  with  an  air  of  grave  respect, 


THE     SAILOR      BOY.  177 

And  earnest  look,  uncovered  stood. 
And  though  their  sjjeech  I  never  heard, 
(Save  now  and  then  a  louder  word,) 
I  saw  he  spake  as  none  but  one 
She  loved  and  trusted,  durst  have  done ; 
For  oft  I  watched  them  in  the  shade 
That  the  close  foi'est  branches  made, 
TiU  slanting  golden  sunbeams  came 
And  smote  the  fir-trees  into  flame, 
A  radiant  glory  round  her  lit. 
Then  down  her  white  robe  seemed  to  flit, 
Gilding  the  brown  leaves  on  the  groimd, 
And  all  the  waving  ferns  around. 
While  by  some  gloomy  pine  she  leant 
And  he  in  earnest  talk  would  stand, 
I  saw  the  tear-drops,  as  she  bent. 
Fall  on  the  flowers  in  her  hand. — 
Strange  as  it  seemed  and  seems  to  be. 
That  one  so  sad,  so  cold  as  she. 
Could  love  a  little  child  like  me — 
Yet  so  it  was.     I  never  heard 
Such  tender  words  as  she  would  say. 
And  murmiirs,  sweeter  than  a  word. 
Would  breathe  upon  me  as  I  lay. 


178  THE     SAILOR     BOY. 

While  I,  in  smiling  joy,  would  rest, 

For  lioui's,  my  head  upon  her  breast. 

Our  neighbours  said  that  none  could  see 

In  me  the  common  childish  charms, 

(So  grave  and  still  I  used  to  be,) 

And  yet  she  held  me  in  her  arms, 

In  a  fond  clasp,  so  close,  so  tight, — 

I  often  dream  of  it  at  night. 

She  bade  me  tell  her  aU — no  other 

My  childish  thoughts  e'er  cared  to  know : 

For  I — I  never  knew  my  mother ; 

I  was  an  orphan  long  ago. 

And  I  could  all  my  fancies  pour. 

That  gentle  loving  face  before. 

She  liked  to  hear  me  tell  her  all ; 

How  that  day  I  had  climbed  the  tree. 

To  make  the  largest  fir-cones  fall ; 

And  how  one  day  I  hoped  to  be 

A  saUor  on  the  deej)  blue  sea — 

She  loved  to  hear  it  all ! 

Then  wondrous  things  she  used  to  tell. 
Of  the  strange  dreams  that  she  had  known. 
I  used  to  love  to  hear  them  well, 


THE     SAILOR     BOY.  179 

If  only  for  her  sweet  low  tone, 

Sometimes  so  sad,  although  I  knew 

That  such  thhigs  never  could  be  true. 

One  day  she  told  me  such  a  tale 

It  made  me  grow  all  cold  and  pale, 

The  fearful  thing  she  told ! 

Of  a  poor  woman  mad  and  wild 

Who  coined  the  hfe-blood  of  her  child. 

And  tempted  by  a  fiend,  had  sold 

The  heart  out  of  her  breast  for  gold. 

But,  when  she  saw  me  frightened  seem, 

She  smiled,  and  said  it  was  a  dream. 

When  I  look  back  and  think  of  her, 

My  very  heart-strings  seem  to  stir ; 

How  kind,  how  fair  she  was,  how  good 

I  cannot  tell  you.     If  I  could 

You,  too,  would  love  her.     The  mere  thought 

Of  her  great  love  for  me  has  brought 

Tears  in  my  eyes  :  though  far  away, 

It  seems  as  it  were  yesterday. 

And  just  as  when  I  looked  on  high 

Through  the  blue  silence  of  the  sky. 

Fresh  stars  shine  out,  and  more  and  more, 

Where  I  could  see  so  feAV  before  ; 


180  THE     SAILOR     BOY. 

So,  the  more  steadily  I  gaze 

Upon  those  far-off  misty  days, 

Fresh  words,  fresh  tones,  fresh  memories  start 

Before  my  eyes  and  in  my  heart. 

I  can  remember  how  one  day 

(Talking  in  silly  childish  way) 

I  said  how  happy  I  should  be 

If  I  were  like  her  son — as  fair, 

"With  just  such  bright  blue-eyes  as  he. 

And  such  long  locks  of  golden  hair. 

A  dark  smile  on  her  pale  face  broke, 

And  in  strange  solemn  words  she  spoke : 

""My  own,  my  darling  one — no,  no ! 
I  love  you,  far,  far  better  so. 
I  would  not  change  the  look  you  bear, 
Or  one  wave  of  your  dark  brown  hair. 
The  mere  glance  of  your  sunny  eyes, 
Deep  in  my  deepest  soul  I  prize 
Above  that  baby  fair ! 
Not  one  of  aU  the  Earl's  proud  line 
In  beauty  ever  matched  with  thine ; 
And,  'tis  by  thy  dark  locks  thou  art 
Bound  even  faster  rovmd  my  heart, 
And  made  more  wholly  mine !  " 


THE     SAILOK     BOY.  181 

And  then  she  paused,  and  weeping  said, 
"  You  are  like  one  who  now  is  dead — 
Who  sleeps  in  a  far-distant  grave. 

0  may  God  grant  that  you  may  be 
As  noble  and  as  good  as  he, 

As  gentle  and  as  brave ! " 
Then  in  my  chUdish  way  I  cried, 
"  The  one  you  tell  me  of  who  died, 
Was  he  as  noble  as  the  Earl?  " 

1  see  her  red  lips  scornful  curl, 
I  feel  her  hold  my  hand  again 

So  tightly,  that  I  shrank  in  pain — 

I  seem  to  hear  her  say, 

"  He  whom  I  tell  you  of,  who  died. 

He  was  so  noble  and  so  gay, 

So  generous  and  so  brave, 

That  the  proud  Earl  by  his  dear  side 

Would  look  a  craven  slave. " 

She  paused  ;  then,  with  a  quivering  sigh. 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  my  brow : 

"  Live  Uke  him,  darling,  and  so  die. 

Remember  that  he  tells  you  now. 

True  peace,  real  honour,  and  content, 

In  cheerful  pious  toU  abide  ; 


182  THE     SAILOR     BOY. 

That  gold  and  splendour  are  but  sent 
To  curse  our  vanity  and  pride. " 

One  day  some  childish  fever  pain 
Burnt  in  my  veins  and  fired  my  brain. 
Moaning,  I  turned  from  side  to  side  ; 
And,  sobbing  in  my  bed,  I  cried, 
Till  night  in  calm  and  darkness  crept 
Around  me,  and  at  last  I  slept. 
When  suddenly  I  woke  to  see 
The  Lady  bendmg  over  me. 
The  drops  of  cold  November  rain 
Were  falling  from  her  long,  damp  hair ; 
Her  anxious  eyes  were  dim  vnih  pain; 
Yet  she  looked  wondrous  fair. 
Arrayed  for  some  great  feast  she  came, 
With  stones  that  shone  and  burnt  like  flame ; 
Wound  round  her  neck,  like  some  bright  snake. 
And  set  like  stars  Avithin  her  hair. 
They  sparkled  so,  they  seemed  to  make 
A  glory  everywhere. 
I  felt  her  tears  upon  my  face. 
Her  kisses  on  my  eyes  ; 
And  a  strange  thought  I  could  not  trace 


THE     SAILOE     BOY.  183 

I  felt  Avithin  my  heart  arise ; 

And,  half  in  feverish  pain,  I  said : 

"  O  if  my  mother  were  not  dead ! " 

And  Walter  bade  me  sleep  ;  but  she 

Said,  "  Is  it  not  the  same  to  thee 

That  Z  watch  by  thy  bed  ?  » 

I  answered  her,  "  I  love  you  too ; 

But  it  can  never  be  the  same  : 

She  was  no  Countess  like  to  you, 

Nor  wore  such  sparkling  stones  of  flame." 

0  the  wild  look  of  fear  and  dread ! 
The  cry  she  gave  of  bitter  woe  ! 

1  often  wonder  what  I  said 

To  make  her  moan  and  shudder  so. 
Through  the  long  night  she  tended  me 
With  such  sweet  care  and  charity. 
But  I  should  weary  you  to  tell 
AU  that  I  know  and  love  so  well : 
Yet  one  night  more  stands  out  alone 
With  a  sad  sweetness  all  its  o^tq. 

The  wind  blew  loud  that  dreary  night : 
Its  waihng  voice  I  well  remember  ; 
The  stars  shone  out  so  large  and  bright 


184  THE     SAILOR     BOY. 

Upon  the  frosty  fii--bouglis  white : 

That  dreary  night  of  cold  December. 

I  saw  old  Walter  silent  stand, 

"Watching  the  soft  last  flakes  of  snow 

With  looks  I  could  not  understand 

Of  strange  perplexity  and  woe. 

At  last  he  turned  and  took  my  hand, 

And  said  the  Coimtess  just  had  sent 

To  bid  us  come  ;  for  she  would  faui 

See  me  once  more,  before  she  went 

Away — never  to  come  again. 

We  came  in  silence  through  the  wood 

(Our  footfall  was  the  only  sound) 

To  where  the  great  white  castle  stood, 

With  darkness  shadowing  it  around. 

Breathless,  we  trod  with  cautious  care 

Up  the  great  echoing  marble  stair  ; 

Trembling,  by  Walter's  hand  I  held. 

Scared  by  the  splendours  I  beheld : 

Now  thinkmg,  "  Should  the  Earl  appear !  " 

Now  looking  up  with  giddy  fear 

To  the  dim  vaulted  roof,  that  sjn-ead 

Its  gloomy  arches  overhead. 

Long  corridors  we  softly  past, 


THE     SAILOR     BOY.  185 

(My  heart  was  beating  loud  and  fast) 
And  reached  the  Lady's  room  at  last : 
A  strange  famt  odour  seemed  to  weigh 
Upon  the  dim  and  darkened  air ; 
One  shaded  lamp,  with  softened  ray, 
Scarce  showed  the  gloomy  splendour  there. 
The  dull  red  brands  were  burmng  low. 
And  yet  a  fitful  gleam  of  light. 
Would  now  and  then  with  sudden  glow, 
Start  forth,  then  sink  ag  ain  in  night. 
I  gazed  around,  yet  half  in  fear. 
Till  "Walter  told  me  to  draw  near : 
And  in  the  strange  and  flickering  light. 
Towards  the  Lady's  bed  I  crept ; 
AU  folded  round  Avith  snowy  white, 
She  lay  ;  (one  would  have  said  she  slept ;) 
So  still  the  look  of  that  white  face, 
It  seemed  as  it  were  carved  in  stone, 
I  paused  before  I  dared  to  place 
Within  her  cold  white  hand  my  own. 
But,  with  a  smile  of  sweet  surprise. 
She  turned  to  me  her  dreamy  eyes  ; 
And  slowly,  as  if  life  were  pain, 
She  drew  me  in  her  arms  to  lie  : 


1.86  THE     SAILOR     BOY. 

She  strove  to  speak,  and  strove  in  vain ; 

Each  breath  was  like  a  long-drawn  sigh  ; 

The  throbs  that  seemed  to  shake  her  breast, 

The  trembUng  clasj),  so  loose,  and  weak. 

At  last  grew  calmer  and  at  rest ; 

And  then  she  strove  once  more  to  speak : 

"  My  God,  I  thank  thee,  that  my  pam 

Of  day  by  day  and  year  by  year. 

Has  not  been  suffered  all  in  vain. 

And  I  may  die  while  he  is  near. 

I  will  not  fear  but  that  Thy  grace 

Has  swept  away  my  sin  and  woe. 

And  sent  this  little  angel  face. 

In  my  last  hour  to  tell  me  so." 

(And  here  her  voice  grew  faint  and  low,) 

"  My  child,  where'er  thy  life  may  go, 

To  know  that  thou  art  brave  and  true, 

Will  pierce  the  highest  heavens  through, 

And  even  there  my  soul  shall  be 

More  joyful  for  this  thought  of  thee." 

She  folded  her  white  hands,  and  stayed, 

All  cold  and  silently  she  lay ; 

I  knelt  beside  the  bed,  and  prayed 

The  prayer  she  used  to  make  me  say. 


THE     SAILOK     BOY.  187 

I  said  it  many  times,  and  then 
She  did  not  move,  but  seemed  to  be 
In  a  deep  sleej),  nor  stii'red  again. 
No  sound  woke  in  the  silent  room, 
Or  broke  the  dim  and  solemn  gloom, 
Save  when  the  brands  that  burnt  so  low 
With  noisy  fitful  gleam  of  hght. 
Would  spread  around  a  sudden  glow. 
Then  sink  in  silence  and  in  night. 
How  long  I  stood  I  do  not  know : 
At  last  poor  Walter  came  and  said 
(So  sadly)  that  we  now  must  go, 
And  whispered,  she  we  loved  was  dead. 
He  bade  me  kiss  her  face  once  more, 
Then  led  me  sobbing  to  the  door. 
I  scarcely  knew  what  dying  meant, 
Yet  a  strange  grief,  before  unknown. 
Weighed  on  my  spirit  as  we  went 
And  left  hor  lying  all  alone. 

We  went  to  the  far  North  once  more, 
To  seek  the  well-remembered  home. 
Where  my  poor  kinsman  dwelt  before. 
Whence  now  he  was  too  old  to  roam  ; 


188  THE     SAILOK     BOY. 

And  there  six  happy  years  we  passed, 
Happy  and  peaceful  till  the  last ; 
When  poor  old  "Walter  died,  and  he 
Blessed  me  and  said  I  now  might  be 
A  sailor  on  the  deep  blue  sea. 
And  so  I  go  ;  and  yet  in  spite 
Of  aU  the  joys  I  long  to  know, 
Though  I  look  onward  with  delight. 
With  something  of  regret  I  go. 
And  young  or  old,  on  land  or  sea. 
One  guiding  memory  I  shaU  take — 
Of  what  she  j)rayed  that  I  might  be, 
And  what  I  will  be  for  her  sake ! 


A  CEOWN   OF  SOEEOW 

A  SOREOW,  wet  with  early  tears 
Yet  bitter,  had  been  long  with  me ; 

I  wearied  of  this  weight  of  years, 
And  would  be  free. 

I  tore  my  Sorrow  from  my  heart, 

I  cast  it  far  away  in  scorn ; 
Right  joyful  that  we  two  could  part, — 

Yet  most  forlorn. 

I  sought,  (to  take  my  Sorrow's  place,) 
Over  the  world  for  flower  or  gem, — 

But  she  had  had  an  ancient  grace 
Unknown  to  them ! 

I  took  once  more  with  strange  dehght 
My  slighted  sorrow ;  proudly  now, 

I  wear  it,  set  with  stars  of  light. 
Upon  my  brow ! 


THE  LESSON  OF  THE  WAK. 
(1855.) 

The  feast  is  spread  through  England 

For  rich  and  i:>oor  to-day ; 
Greetings  and  laughter  may  be  there, 

But  thoughts  are  far  away ; 
Over  the  stormy  ocean, 

Over  the  dreary  track, 
Where  some  are  gone,  whom  England 

WiU  never  welcome  back. 

Breathless  she  waits,  and  listens 

Through  every  eastern  breeze 
That  bears  upon  its  bloody  wings 

News  from  beyond  the  seas. 
The  leafless  branches  stirring 

Make  many  a  watcher  start ; 
The  distant  tramp  of  steed  may  send 

A  throb  from  heart  to  heart. 


THE    LESSON    OF    THE    WAR.  191 

The  rulers  of  the  nation, 

The  poor  ones  at  their  gate, 
With  the  same  eager  wonder 

The  same  great  news  await ! 
The  poor  man's  stay  and  comfort. 

The  rich  man's  joy  and  pride. 
Upon  the  bleak  Crimean  shore 

Are  fighting  side  by  side. 

The  bullet  comes — and  either 

A  desolate  hearth  may  see ; 
And  God  alone  to-night  knows  where 

The  vacant  jAace  may  be ! 
The  dread  that  stirs  the  peasant 

Thrills  nobles'  hearts  with  fear, — 
Yet  above  selfish  sorrow 

Both  hold  their  country  dear. 

The  rich  man  who  reposes 

In  his  ancestral  shade. 
The  peasant  at  his  ploughshare. 

The  workman  at  his  trade. 
Each  one  his  all  has  perilled, 

Each  has  the  same  great  stake ; 


192  THE    LESSON    OF    THE    WAE. 

Each  soul  can  but  have  patience, 
Each  heart  can  only  break ! 

Hushed  is  aU  party  clamour ; 

One  thought  in  every  heart, 
One  dread  in  every  household, 

Has  bid  such  strife  depart. 
England  has  caUed  her  children ; 

Long  silent — the  word  came 
That  Ht  the  smouldering  ashes 

Through  all  the  land  to  flame. 

O  you  who  toil  and  suffer. 

You  gladly  heard  the  call ; 
But  those  you  sometimes  envy 

Have  they  not  given  their  all  ? 
O  you  who  rule  the  nation. 

Take  now  the  toil-worn  hand, — 
Brothers  you  are  in  sorrow, 

In  duty  to  your  land. 
Learn  but  this  noble  lesson 

Ere  j)eace  returns  again, 
And  the  life-blood  of  Old  England 

Will  not  be  shed  in  vain ! 


THE  TWO  SPIRITS. 

(1855.) 

Last  night,  when  weary  silence  fell  on  all, 
And  starless  skies  arose  so  dim  and  vast, 

I  heard  the  Spirit  of  the  Present  call 
Upon  the  sleeping  Spu-it  of  the  Past. 

Far  off  and  near,  I  saw  their  radiance  shine. 

And  listened  while  they  spoke  of  deeds  divine. 

The  Bpirit  of  the  Past. 

My  deeds  are  writ  in  iron ; 

My  glory  stands  alone ; 
A  veil  of  shadowy  honour 

Upon  my  tombs  is  thrown  ; 
The  great  names  of  my  heroes 

Like  gems  in  history  lie ; 
9 


194  THE     TWO     SPIRITS. 

To  live  they  deemed  ignoble, 
Had  they  the  chance  to  die ! 

ITie  Spirit  of  the  Present. 

My  children,  too,  are  honoured ; 

Dear  shall  their  memory  be 
To  the  proud  lands  that  own  them ; 

Dearer  than  thine  to  thee ; 
For,  though  they  hold  that  sacred 

Is  God's  great  gift  of  life, 
At  the  first  call  of  duty 

They  rush  into  the  strife ! 

The  Spirit  of  the  Past. 

Then,  with  all  valiant  precepts 

Woman's  soft  heart  was  fraught ; 
"Death,  not  dishonour,"  echoed 

The  war-cry  she  had  taught. 
Fearless  and  glad,  those  mothers. 

At  bloody  deaths  elate. 
Cried  out  they  bore  their  children 

Only  for  such  a  fate  ! 


THE     TWO     SPIRITS.  195 


The  Spirit  of  the  Present. 

Though  such  stern  laws  of  honour 

Are  faded  now  away, 
Yet  many  a  mourning  mother, 

With  nobler  grief  than  they, 
Bows  down  in  sad  submission : 

The  heroes  of  the  fiarht 
Learnt  at  her  knee  the  lesson, 

"  For  God  and  for  the  Right !  " 


The  /Spirit  of  the  Past. 

No  voice  there  spake  of  sorrow : 

They  saw  the  noblest  fall 
With  no  repining  murniui" ; 

Stern  Fate  was  lord  of  all ! 
And  when  the  loved  ones  perished, 

One  cry  alone  arose, 
Waking  the  startled  echoes, 

"  Vengeance  upon  our  foes !  " 


196  THE     TWO     SPIRITS. 


The  Spirit  of  the  Present. 

Grief  dwells  in  France  and  Englaud 

For  many  a  noble  son ; 
Yet  louder  than  the  sorrow, 

"  Thy  will,  O  God,  be  done ! " 
From  desolate  homes  is  rising 

One  prayer,  "  Let  carnage  cease ! 
On  Mends  and  foes  have  mercy, 

O  Lord,  and  give  us  peace ! " 


The  Spirit  of  the  Past. 

Then,  every  hearth  was  honoured 

That  sent  its  children  forth. 
To  spread  their  country's  glory, 

And  gain  her  south  or  north. 
Then,  little  recked  they  mmibers, 

No  band  would  ever  fly. 
But  stern  and  resolute  they  stood 

To  conquer  or  to  die. 


THE     TWO     SPIEITS.  197 


The  Spirit  of  the  Present. 

And  now  from  France  and  England 

Their  dearest  and  their  best 
Go  forth  to  succour  freedom, 

To  help  the  much  oppressed ; 
Now,  let  the  far-off  Future 

And  Past  bow  dovs-n  to-day. 
Before  the  few  young  hearts  that  hold 

Whole  armaments  at  bay. 


The  Spirit  of  the  Past. 

Then,  each  one  strove  for  honour, 

Each  for  a  deathless  name ; 
Love,  home,  rest,  joy,  were  offered 

As  sacrifice  to  Fame. 
They  longed  that  in  far  ages 

Their  deeds  might  still  be  told. 
And  distant  tunes  and  nations 

Their  names  in  honour  hold. 


198  THE     TWO     SPIRITS, 


The  Spirit  of  the  Present. 

Though  nursed  by  such  old  legends, 

Our  heroes  of  to-day- 
Go  cheerfully  to  battle 

As  children  go  to  play  ; 
They  gaze  with  awe  and  wonder 

On  your  great  names  of  pride, 
Unconscious  that  their  own  will  shine 

In  glory  side  by  side ! 


Day  dawned  ;  and  as  the  Spirits  jsassed  away, 
Methought  I  saw,  in  the  dim  morning  grey, 
The  Past's  bright  diadem  had  paled  before 
The  starry  crown  the  glorious  Present  wore. 


A  LITTLE  LON^GEPv. 

A  LITTLE  longer  yet — a  little  longer, 

Shall  violets  bloom  for  tbee,  and  sweet  birds  sino- ; 

And  the  lime  branches  where  soft  winds  are  blow- 

Shall  mm-mur  the  sweet  promise  of  the  Spring  ! 

A  little  longer  yet — a  little  longer, 
Thou  shalt  behold  the  quiet  of  the  morn  : 
While  tender  grasses  and  awakenmg  flowers 
Send  up  a  purple  mist  to  greet  the  dawn  ! 

A  little  longer  yet — a  little  longer, 
The  tenderness  of  twilight  shall  be  thine, 
The  rosy  clouds  that  float  o'er  dying  daylight, 
Nor  fade  till  trembluig  stars  begin  to  shine. 

A  little  longer  yet — a  little  longer, 

Shall  starry  night  be  beautiful  for  thee ; — 


200  A     LITTLE     LONGER. 

And  the  cold  moon  shall  look  through  the  blue 

silence, 
Flooding  her  silver  path  upon  the  sea. 

A  little  longer  yet — a  Httle  longer, 
Life  shall  be  thine  ;  life  with  its  power  to  will ; 
Life  with  its  strength  to  bear,  to  love,  to  conquer, 
Bringing  its  thousand  joys  thy  heart  to  fill. 

A  Httle  longer  yet — a  little  longer, 

The  voices  thou  hast  loved  shall  chaim  thine  ear ; 

And  thy  true  heart,  that  now  beats  quick  to  hear 

them, 
A  little  longer  yet  shall  hold  them  dear. 

A  little  longer  yet — joy  while  thou  mayest ; 
Love  and  rejoice  !  for  time  has  nought  in  store : 
And  soon  the  darkness  of  the  grave  shall  bid  thee 
Love  and  rejoice  and  feel  and  know  no  more. 


A  little  longer  stiU — Patience,  Beloved : 
A  little  longer  still,  ere  Heaven  unroll 


A     LITTLE     LONGEE.  201 

The  Glory,  and  the  Brightness,  and  the  Wonder, 
Eternal,  and  divine,  that  waits  thy  Soul ! 

A  little  longer  ere  Life  true,  immortal, 

(N"ot  this  our  shadowy  Life,)  will  be  thine  own  ; 

And  thou  shalt  stand  where  winged  Archangels 

worship, 
And  trembling  bow  before  the  Great  White  Throne. 

A  little  longer  still,  and  Heaven  awaits  thee, 
And  fills  thy  sj)ii-it  with  a  great  delight ; 
Then  our  pale  joys  will  seem  a  dream  forgotten, 
Our  Sun  a  darkness,  and  our  Day  a  night. 

A  little  longer,  and  thy  Heart,  Beloved, 
Shall  beat  for  ever  with  a  Love  divine ; 
And  joy  so  pure,  so  mighty,  so  eternal, 
No  creatm-e  knows  and  lives  will  then  be  thine. 

A  little  longer  yet — and  angel  voices 
Shall  rmg  in  heavenly  chant  upon  thine  ear ; 
Angels  and  Saints  await  thee,  and  God  needs  thee. 
Beloved,  can  we  bid  thee  linger  here  ! 
9* 


GEIEF. 

An  ancient  enemy  have  I, 
And  either  he  or  I  must  die  ; 
For  he  never  leaveth  me, 
Never  gives  my  soul  reUef, 
Never  lets  my  sorrow  cease, 
Never  gives  my  spirit  peace, — 
For  mine  enemy  is  Grief! 

Pale  he  is,  and  sad  and  stern  ; 
And  where'er  he  cometh  nigh. 
Blue  and  dim  the  torches  burn, 
Pale  and  shrunk  the  roses  txim  ; 
While  my  heart  that  he  has  pierced 
Many  a  time  with  fiery  lance 
Beats  and  trembles  at  his  glance  : 
Clad  in  bui'ning  steel  is  he, 
AU  my  strength  he  can  defy ; 
For  he  never  leaveth  me — 
And  one  of  us  must  die  ! 


GEIEF.  203 

I  have  said,  "  Let  ancient  sages 
Charm  me  from  my  thoughts  of  pain  !  " 
So  I  read  their  deepest  pages, 
And  I  strove  to  think — in  vain ! 
Wisdom's  cold  cahn  words  I  tried, 
But  he  was  seated  by  my  side : — 
Learning  I  have  won  in  vain  ; 
She  cannot  rid  me  of  my  j^ain. 

When  at  last  soft  sleep  comes  o'er  me, 
A  cold  hand  is  on  my  heart ; 
Stern  sad  eyes  are  there  before  me, 
Not  in  dreams  will  he  depart ; 
And  when  the  same  dreary  vision 
From  my  weary  brain  has  fled. 
Daylight  brings  the  living  phantom, 
He  is  seated  by  my  bed. 
Bending  o'er  me  all  the  while. 
With  his  cruel,  bitter  snule, 
Ever  with  me,  ever  nigh  ; — 
And  either  he  or  I  must  die ! 

Then  I  said,  long  time  ago, 
"  I  will  flee  to  other  climes. 


204  GEIEF. 

I  ^vill  leave  mine  ancient  foe  !  " 
Though  I  wandered  far  and  wide, — 
Still  he  followed  by  my  side. 

And  I  fled  where  the  blue  waters 
Bathe  the  sunny  isles  of  Greece  ; 
Where  Thessalian  mountains  rise 
Uj)  against  the  purple  skies  ; 
Where  a  haunting  memory  liveth 
In  each  wood  and  cave  and  riU ; 
But  no  dream  of  gods  could  help  me- 
He  went  with  me  stiU  ! 


I  have  been  where  NUe's  broad  river 
Runs  upon  the  burning  sand ; 
Where  the  desert  monster  broodeth, 
Where  the  Eastern  palm-trees  stand  ; 
I  have  been  where  pathless  forests 
Sjjread  a  black  eternal  shade  ; 
Where  the  lurking  jjanther  hiding 
Glares  from  every  tangled  glade ; 
But  in  vain  I  wandered  Avide, 
He  was  always  by  my  side  ! 


GRIEF.  205 

Then  I  lied  where  snows  eternal 
Cold  and  dreary  ever  lie ; 
Where  the  rosy  lightnings  gleam, 
Flashing  through  the  northern  sky ; 
Where  the  red  sun  turns  again 
Back  upon  his  path  of  pain ; — 
But  a  shadowy  form  was  with  me — 
I  had  fled  in  vain ! 

I  have  thought,  "  If  I  can  gaze 
Sternly  on  him  he  wiU  fade, 
For  I  know  that  he  is  nothing 
But  a  dim  ideal  shade." 
As  I  gazed  at  him  the  more, 
He  grew  stronger  than  before  ! 

Then  I  said,  "  Mine  arm  is  strong, 
I  will  make  him  turn  and  flee :  " 
I  have  struggled  with  him  long — 
But  that  could  never  be ! 

Once  I  battled  with  him  so 
That  I  thought  I  laid  him  low ; 
Then  in  trembling  joy  I  fled. 
While  again  and  still  again 


206  GRIEF. 

Miirmurmg  to  myself  I  said, 
"  Mine  old  enemy  is  dead  ! " 
And  I  stood  beneath  the  stai's, 
When  a  chill  came  on  my  frame, 
And  a  fear  I  could  not  name, 
And  a  sense  of  quick  "despair, 
And,  lo  ! — mine  enemy  was  there ! 

Listen,  for  my  soul  is  weary. 
Weary  of  its  endless  woe  ; 
I  have  called  on  one  to  aid  me 
Mightier  even  than  my  foe. 
Strength  and  hope  fail  day  by  day  ; 
I  shall  cheat  him  of  his  prey ; 
Some  day  soon,  I  know  not  when, 
He  will  stab  me  through  and  through 
He  has  wounded  me  before. 
But  my  heart  can  bear  no  more ; 
Pray  that  hour  may  come  to  me, 
Only  then  shall  I  be  free ; 
Death  alone  has  strength  to  take  me 
AVhere  my  foe  can  never  be ; 
Death,  and  Death  alone,  has  power 
To  conquer  mine  old  enemy ! 


THE   TRIUMPH   OF   TIME. 

The  tender  delicate  Flowers, 
I  saw  them  fanned  by  a  warm  western  wind, 

Fed  by  soft  summer  showers, 
Shielded  by  care,  and  yet,  (oh  Fate  unkind ! ) 

Fade  in  a  few  short  hours. 

The  gentle  and  the  gay, 
Rich  in  a  glorious  Future  of  bright  deeds, 

Rejoicing  ia  the  day, 
Ai-e  met  by  Death,  who  sternly,  sadly  leads 

Them  far  away. 

And  Hoj)es,  perfumed  and  bright. 
So  lately  shining,  wet  with  dew  and  tears, 

Tremblmg  in  morning  light, 
I  saw  them  change  to  dark  and  anxious  fears 

Before  the  night ! 


208  THE     TRIUMPH      OF     TIME. 

I  wejjt  that  all  must  die — 
"  Yet   Love,"  I   cried,  "  doth  live,  and   conquer 
death—" 
And  Time  passed  by, 

And   breathed   on  Love,  and  killed  it  with  his 
breath 

Ere  Death  was  nigh. 

More  bitter  far  than  all 
It  was  to  know  that  Love  can  change  and  die — 

Hush !  for  the  ages  call 
"  The  Love  of  God  Uves  through  eternity. 

And  conquers  all !  " 


A   PAETIKG. 

Without  one  bitter  feeling  let  us  part ; 

And  for  the  years  in  which  your  love  has  shed 
A  radiance  like  a  glory  roimd  my  head, 

I  thank  yoii,  yes,  I  thank  you  from  my  heart 


A     PARTIKG.  209 

I  thank  you  for  the  cherished  hope  of  years, 
A  starry  future,  dim  and  yet  di\^ne, 
Winging  its  way  from  Heaven  to  be  mine, 

Laden  with  joy,  and  ignorant  of  tears. 

I  thank  you,  yes,  I  thank  you  even  more 

That  my  heart  learnt  not  without  love  to  live, 
But  gave  and  gave,  and  stUl  had  more  to  give. 

From  an  abundant  and  exhaustless  store. 

[  thank  you,  and  no  grief  is  in  these  tears ; 
I  thank  you,  not  in  bittex-ness  but  truth, 
For  the  fair  vision  that  adorned  my  youth 

And  glorified  so  many  happy  years. 

Yet  how  much  more  I  thank  you  that  you  tore 
At  last  the  veil  that  you  had  woven,  away. 
That  hid  the  thing  I  worshipped  was  of  clay. 

And  vain  and  false  what  I  had  knelt  before. 

I  thank  you  that  you  taught  me  the  stern  truth, 
(None  other  could  have  told  and  I  believed,) 
That  vam  had  been  my  life,  and  I  deceived, 

And  wasted  all  the  purpose  of  my  youth. 


210  A     PARTING. 

I  thank   you   that   your  hand  clashed  down  the 
shrme, 

Wherem  my  idol  worship  I  had  paid ; 

Else  had  I  never  known  a  soul  was  made 
To  serve  and  worship  only  the  DiAdne, 

I  thank  you  that  the  heart  I  cast  away 

On  such  as  you,  though  broken,  bruised  and 

crushed, 
Now  that  its  fiery  throbbing  is  all  hushed, 

Upon  a  worthier  altar  I  can  lay. 

I  thank  you  for  the  lesson  that  such  love 
Is  a  perverting  of  God's  royal  right, 
That  it  is  made  but  for  the  Infinite, 

And  all  too  great  to  live  except  above. 

I  thank  you  for  a  terrible  awaking, 

And  if  reproach  seemed  hidden  in  my  pain. 
And  sorrow  seemed  to  cry  on  your  disdain. 

Know  that  my  blessing  lay  in  your  forsaking. 

Farewell  for  ever  now : — in  peace  we  part ; 
And  should  an  idle  vision  of  my  tears 
Arise  before  your  soul  in  after  years — 

Remember  that  I  thank  you  from  my  heart ! 


THE  GOLDEN    GATE. 

Dim  shadows  gather  thickly  round,  and  up  the 

misty  stair  they  climb, 
The  cloudy  stair  that  upward  leads  to  where  the 

closed  portals  shine, 
Round  which  the  kneeling  spuits  Avait  the  opening 

of  the  Golden  Gate. 

And  some  with   eager  longing  go,  still  pressing 

forward,  hand  in  hand, 
And  some  with  weary  step  and  sIoav,  look  back 

where  their  Beloved  stand — 
Yet  up  the  misty  stair  they  cHmb,  led  onward  by 

the  Ano-el  Time. 


o 


As  unseen  hands  roll  back  the  doors,  the  light 
that  floods  the  very  air 


212  THE     GOLDEN     GATE. 

Is  the  dim  shadow  from  witliin,  of  the  great  glory 

hidden  there — 
And  morn  and  eve,  and  soon  and  late,  the  shadows 

pass  within  the  gate. 

As  one  by  one  they  enter  m,  and  the  dim  portals 

close  once  more, 
The  halo  seems  to   Imger  round  those  kneeling 

closest  to  the  door : 
The  joy  that  lightened  from  that  place  shines  still 

upon  the  watcher's  face. 

The  faint  low  echo  that  we  hear  of  far-off  music 

seems  to  fill 
The  silent  ah*  with  love  and  fear,  and  the  world's 

clamours  all  grow  still, 
Until  the  portals  close  again,  and  leave  us  toiling 

on  in  pain. 

Complain  not  that  the  way  is  long ; — what  road  is 

weary  that  leads  there  ? 
But  let  the  Angel  take  thy  hand,  and  lead  thee  up 

the  misty  stair. 
And  then  with  beating  heart  await,  the  opening  of 

the  Golden  Gate. 


PHANTOMS. 

Back,  ye  Phantoms  of  the  Past ; 

In  your  dreary  caves  remain : 
What  have  I  to  do  with  memories 

Of  a  long-forgotten  pain  ? 

For  my  Present  is  all  j)eaceful, 
And  my  Future  nohly  planned ; 

Long  ago  Time's  mighty  biUows 
Swept  your  footsteps  from  the  sand. 

Back  into  your  caves  ;  nor  haunt  me 
With  your  voices  full  of  woe ; 

I  have  buried  grief  and  sorrow 
In  the  depths  of  Long-ago. 

See  the  glorious  clouds  of  morning 
Roll  away,  and  clear  and  bright 

Shine  the  rays  of  cloudless  dayhght, — 
Wherefore  will  ye  moan  of  night  ? 


214  PHANTOMS. 

Never  shall  my  heart  be  burthened 
With  its  ancient  woe  and  fears ; 

I  can  drive  them  from  my  presence, 
I  can  check  these  foolish  tears. 

Back,  ye  Pliantoms;  leave,  oh  leave  me 

To  a  new  and  happy  lot ; 
Speak  no  more  of  things  departed, 

Leave  me, — ^for  I  know  ye  not. 

Can  it  be  that  'mid  my  gladness 
I  must  ever  hear  ye  wail, 
■  Of  the  grief  that  wrung  my  spirit, 
And  that  made  my  cheek  so  pale  ? 

Joy  is  mine ;  but  your  sad  voices 
Murmur  ever  in  mine  ear  : 

Vain  is  aU  the  Future's  promise. 
While  the  dreary  Past  is  here. 

Vain,  oh  worse  than  vain,  the  Visions 
That  my  heart,  my  life  would  fill, 

If  the  Past's  relentless  phantoms 
Call  upon  me  still ! 


THANKFULNESS. 

I  THAKK  Thee,  oh  my  God,  who  made 

The  Earth  so  bright ; 
So  full  of  splendour  and  of  joy, 

Beauty  and  light ; 
So  many  glorious  things  are  here, 

Noble  and  right ! 

I  Thauk  Thee,  too,  that  Thou  hast  made 

Joy  to  abomid ; 
So  many  gentle  thoughts  and  deeds 

Circhng  us  round, 
That  m  the  dax'kest  spot  on  Earth 

Some  love  is  found. 

I  thank  Thee  more  that  all  our  joy 
Is  touched  with  pain ; 


216  THANKFULNESS. 

That  shadows  fall  on  brightest  hours ; 

That  thorns  remam ; 
So  that  Earth's  bliss  may  be  our  guide, 

And  not  our  chain. 

For  Thou  who  knowest,  Lord,  how  soon 

Our  weak  heart  clings. 
Hast  given  us  joys,  tender  and  true, 

Yet  all  with  wings. 
So  that  we  see,  gleaming  on  high. 

Diviner  things ! 

I  thank  Thee,  Lord,  that  Thou  hast  kept 

The  best  in  store ; 
We  have  enough,  yet  not  too  much 

To  long  for  more : 
A  yearning  for  a  deeper  peace, 

N"ot  known  before. 

I  thank  Thee,  Lord,  that  here  our  souls, 

Though  amply  blest, 
Can  never  find,  although  they  seek, 

A  perfect  rest — 
Nor  ever  shall,  imtil  they  lean 

On  Jesus'  breast ! 


HOME-SICKNESS. 

Where  I  am,  the  halls  are  gilded, 
Stored  with  pictures  bright  and  rare ; 

Strains  of  deep  melodious  music 
Float  upon  the  j)erfumed  air : — 

Nothing  stirs  the  dreary  silence 
Save  the  melancholy  sea, 

Near  the  poor  and  humble  cottage, 
Where  I  fain  would  be ! 

Where  I  am,  the  sun  is  shining, 
And  the  purple  windows  glow. 

Till  their  rich  armorial  shadows 
Stain  the  marble  floor  below  • — 

Faded  Autumn  leaves  are  trembling, 
On  the  withered  jasmine  tree. 

Creeping  roimd  the  little  casement, 
Where  I  fain  would  be ! 


218  HOME-SICKNESS. 

Where  I  am,  the  days  are  passing 
O'er  a  pathway  strewn  with  flowers ; 

Song  and  joy  and  starry  pleasures 
Crown  the  happy  smiling  hours : — 

Slowly,  heavily,  and  sadly. 

Time  with  weary  wings  must  flee. 

Marked  by  pain,  and  toil,  and  sorrow. 
Where  I  fain  would  be ! 

Where  I  am,  the  great  and  noble, 
TeU  me  of  renown  and  fame, 

And  the  red  wine  sparkles  highest, 
To  do  honour  to  my  name : — 

Far  away  a  place  is  vacant, 
By  a  humble  hearth  for  me. 

Dying  embers  dimly  show  it 
Where  I  fain  would  be ! 

Where  I  am,  are  glorious  dreamings. 
Science,  genius,  art  divine. 

And  the  great  minds  whom  all  honour 
Interchange  their  thoughts  with  mine 

A  few  simple  hearts  are  waiting, 
Longing,  wearying,  for  me. 


HOME-SICKNESS.  219 

Far  away  where  tears  are  falling, 
Where  I  fain  would  be ! 

Where  I  am,  all  think  me  happy. 

For  so  well  I  play  my  part, 
None  can  guess,  who  smile  around  me, 
.   How  far  distant  is  my  heart — 
Far  away,  in  a  poor  cottage. 

Listening  to  the  dreary  sea, 
Where  the  treasures  of  my  life  are, 
Where  I  fain  would  be ! 


WISHES. 

All  the  fluttering  wishes 
Caged  within  thy  heart 

Beat  their  wings  against  it. 
Longing  to  depart, 

Till  they  shake  their  prison 
With  their  wounded  ci*y : 


220  WISHES. 

Open  then  thy  heart  to-day, 
And  let  the  captives  fly. 

Let  them  fii-st  fly  upwai'd 

Through  the  starry  air, 
Till  you  almost  lose  them, 

For  their  home  is  there ; 
Then  with  outspread  puiiona, 

Circling  roimd  and  round, 
"Wing  their  way  wherever 

Want  and  woe  are  found. 

Where  the  weary  stitcher 

ToUs  for  daily  bread ; 
Where  the  lonely  watcher 

Watches  by  her  dead ; 
Where  with  thin  weak  fingers, 

Toiling  at  the  loom, 
Stand  the  little  children. 

Blighted  ere  they  bloom. 

Where  by  darkness  blinded. 
Groping  for  the  light, 


WISHES.  221 


With  distorted  conscience 
Men  do  Avrong  for  right ; 

Where  in  the  cold  shadow, 
By  smooth  jDleasure  thrown, 

Human  hearts  by  hundreds 
Harden  into  stone. 

Where  on  dusty  highways, 

With  faint  heart  and  slow, 
Cursing  the  glad  sunlight. 

Hungry  outcasts  go ; 
Where  all  mirth  is  silenced. 

And  the  hearth  is  chUl, 
For  one  place  is  empty, 

And  one  voice  is  stUl, 

Some  hearts  will  be  Hghter 

While  your  captives  roam 
For  their  tender  singing, 

Then  recal  them  home ; 
When  the  sunny  hours 

Into  night  depart. 
Softly  they  will  nestle 

In  a  quiet  heart. 


THE  PEACE   OF   GOD. 

We  ask  for  Peace,  oh  Lord  ! 

Thy  children  ask  Thy  Peace ; 
Not  what  the  world  calls  rest, 

That  toil  and  care  should  cease, 
That  through  bright  sunny  hours 

Cahn  Life  should  fleet  away, 
And  tranquil  night  should  fade 
In  smiling  day ; — 
It  is  not  for  such  Peace  that  we  would  pray. 

We  ask  for  Peace,  oh  Lord ! 

Yet  not  to  stand  secure, 
Gu't  round  with  iron  Pride, 

Contented  to  endure : 
Crushing  the  gentle  strings, 

That  human  hearts  should  know. 
Untouched  by  others'  joys 
Or  others'  woe  ; — 
Thou,  oh  dear  Lord,  wilt  never  teach  us  so. 


THE     PEACK     OF     GOD.  223 

We  ask  Thy  Peace,  oh  Lord ! 

Through  storm,  and  fear,  and  strife, 
To  Hght  and  guide  us  on, 

Through  a  long  struggling  life : 
WMle  no  success  or  gain 

ShaU  cheer  the  desperate  fight. 
Or  nerve,  what  the  world  calls, 
Our  wasted  might : — 
Yet  pressing  through  the  darkness  to  the  light. 

It  is  Thine  own,  oh  Lord, 

Who  toil  whUe  others  sleep ; 
Who  sow  with  lo^dng  care 

What  other  hands  shall  reap : 
They  lean  on  Thee  entranced, 

Li  calm  and  perfect  rest : 
Give  us  that  Peace,  oh  Lord, 
Divine  and  blest, 
Thou  keepest  for  those  hearts  who  love  Thee  best. 


LIFE  m  DEATH  AND  DEATH  IN 
LIFE. 

I. 

If  the  dread  day  that  calls  thee  hence, 
Through  a  red  mist  of  fear  should  loom, 
(Closmg  in  deadliest  night  and  gloom 

Long  hours  of  aching  dumb  suspense,) 
And  leave  me  to  my  lonely  doom. 

I  think,  beloved,  I  could  see 

In  thy  dear  eyes  the  loving  Hght 
Glaze  into  vacancy  and  night, 

And  still  say,  "  God  is  good  to  me, 
And  all  that  He  decrees  is  right. " 

That  watching  thy  slow  struggling  breath, 
And  answering  each  perj)lexfed  sign, 
I  stni  could  pray  thy  prayer  and  mine. 

And  teU  thee,  dear,  though  this  was  death. 
That  God  was  love,  and  love  divine. 


LIFE     IN     DEATH.  225 

Could  hold  thee  in  my  arms,  and  lay 
Upon  my  heart  thy  weary  head, 
And  meet  thy  last  smile  ere  it  fled ; 

Then  hear,  as  in  a  dream,  one  say, 
"  Now  all  is  over, — she  is  dead." 

Could  smooth  thy  garments  with  fond  care, 
And  cross  thy  hands  upon  thy  breast. 
And  kiss  thine  eyeUds  down  to  rest, 

And  yet  say  no  word  of  despair. 

But,  through  my  sobbing,  "  It  is  best." 

Could  stifle  down  the  gnawing  pain. 
And  say,  "  We  still  divide  our  life, 
She  has  the  rest,  and  I  the  strife. 

And  mine  the  loss,  and  hers  the  gain  : 
My  ill  with  bUss  for  her  is  rife." 

Then  turn,  and  the  old  duties  take, — 
Alone  now, — yet  with  earnest  will 
Gathering  sweet  sacred  traces  still 

To  help  me  on,  and,  for  thy  sake. 

My  heart  and  life  and  soul  to  fill. 
10* 


226  LIFE     IN     DEATH. 

I  think  I  could  check  vain  weak  tears, 

And  toil, — although  the  world's  great  space 
Held  nothing  but  one  vacant  place, 

And  see  the  dark  and  weary  years 
Lit  only  by  a  vanished  grace. 

And  sometimes,  when  the  day  was  o'er, 

Call  up  the  tender  past  again : 

Its  painful  joy,  its  hapjjy  paui. 
And  live  it  over  yet  once  more, 

And  say,  "  But  few  more  yeai's  remain." 

And  then,  when  I  had  striven  my  best, 
And  all  around  would  softly  say, 
"  See  how  Time  makes  all  grief  decay," 

Would  lie  down  thankfully  to  rest, 
And  seek  thee  in  eternal  day. 

II. 

But  if  the  day  should  ever  rise — 
It  could  not  and  it  cannot  be — 
Yet,  if  the  sun  should  ever  see, 

Looking  upon  us  from  the  skies, 

A  day  that  took  thy  heart  from  me  ; 


LIFE     IN     DEATH.  227 

If  loving  thee  still  more  and  more, 
And  still  so  willing  to  be  blind, 
I  should  the  bitter  knowledge  find, 

That  Time  had  eaten  out  the  core 
Of  love,  and  left  the  empty  rind ; 

If  the  poor  lifeless  words,  at  last, 

(The  soul  gone,  that  was  once  so  sweet,) 
Should  cease  my  eager  heart  to  cheat, 

And  crumble  back  into  the  past, 
And  show  the  whole  a  vara  deceit ; 

If  I  should  see  thee  turn  away, 

And  know  that  prayer,  and  time,  and  pain. 
Could  no  more  thy  lost  love  regain, 

Than  bid  the  hours  of  dying  day 
Gleam  in  their  mid-day  noon  again. 

If  I  should  loose  thy  hand,  and  know 
That  henceforth  we  must  dwell  apart, 
Since  I  have  seen  thy  love  depart. 

And  only  count  the  hours  flow 

By  the  dull  throbbing  of  my  heart. 


228  LIFE     IN     DEATH. 

If  I  should  gaze  and  gaze  in  vain 
Into  thine  eyes  so  deep  and  clear, 
And  read  the  truth  of  all  my  fear 

Half-mixed  with  pity  for  my  pain, 
And  sorrow  for  the  vanished  year. 

If  not  to  grieve  thee  overmuch, 
I  strove  to  counterfeit  disdain, 
And  weave  me  a  new  life  again. 

Which  thy  life  could  not  mar,  or  touch, 
And  so  smile  down  my  bitter  pain. 

The  ghost  of  my  dead  Past  would  rise 
And  mock  me,  and  I  could  not  dare 
Look  to  a  future  of  despair. 

Or  even  to  the  eternal  skies. 

For  I  should  still  be  lonely  there. 

All  Truth,  aU  Honour,  then  would  seem 
Vain  clouds,  which  the  fii-st  wind  blew  by ; 
All  Trust,  a  folly  doomed  to  die  ; 

All  Life,  a  useless  emj)ty  dream ; 
All  Love, — since  thine  had  failed — a  lie. 


LIFE     IN     DEATH.  229 

But  see,  thy  tender  smile  has  cast 
My  fear  away :  this  thought  of  mine 
Is  treason  to  my  Love  and  thine  ; 

For  Love' is  Life,  and  Death  at  last 
Crowns  it  eternal  and  divine ! 


KECOLLECTIONS. 

As  strangers,  you  and  I  are  here ; 

"We  both  as  aliens  stand, 
Where  once,  in  years  gone  by,  I  dwelt 

No  stranger  in  the  land. 
Then  while  you  gaze  on  park  and  stream. 

Let  me  remain  apart, 
And  Usten  to  the  awakened  sound 

Of  voices  in  my  heart ! 

Here,  where  upon  the  velvet  lawn 
The  cedar  spreads  its  shade. 


230  RECOLLECTIONS. 

And  by  the  flower-beds  all  around, 
Bright  roses  bloom  and  fade  ; 

Shrill  merry  childish  laughter  rings, 
And  baby  voices  sweet, 

And  by  me,  on  the  path,  I  hear 
The  tread  of  Httle  feet. 


Down  the  dark  avenue  of  limes. 

Whose  perfume  loads  the  air. 
Whose  boughs  are  rustlmg  overhead, 

(For  the  west  wind  is  there,) 
I  hear  the  sound  of  earnest  talk, 

Warnings  and  counsels  wise. 
And  the  quick  questioning  that  brought 

Such  gentle,  calm  rei^lies. 


Still  the  light  bridge  hangs  o'er  the  lake. 
Where  broad-leaved  lihes  he, 

And  the  cool  water  shows  asfain 
The  cloud  that  moves  on  hiwh ; — 

And  one  voice  speaks,  in  tones  I  thought 
The  past  for  ever  kept ; 


RECOLLECTIONS.  231 

But  now  I  know,  deep  in  my  heart 
Its  echoes  only  slejjt ! 

I  hear,  within  the  shady  porch 

Once  more,  the  measured  soimd 
Of  the  old  ballads  that  were  read, 

WhUe  we  sat  listening  round ; 
The  starry  passion-flower  still 

Up  the  green  trellice  cHmbs ; 
The  tendrUs  wavuig  seem  to  keep 

The  cadence  of  the  rhymes, 

I  might  have  striven,  and  striven  in  vain. 

Such  visions  to  recall. 
Well  known  and  yet  forgotten ;  noAv 

I  see,  I  hear  them  all ! 
The  present  pales  before  the  past. 

Who  comes  with  angel  wings ; 
As  ia  a  dream  I  stand,  amidst 

Strange  yet  familiar  things ! 

Enough,  so  let  us  go,  mine  eyes 
Are  blinded  by  their  tears ; 


232  RECOLLECTIONS. 

A  voice  speaks  to  my  soiil  to-day 
Of  long  forgotten  years. 

And  yet  the  vision  in  my  heart. 
In  a  few  hours  more, 

Wni  fade  into  the  silent  past, 
Silently  as  before. 


ILLUSION. 

Where  the  golden  com  is  bending, 
And  the  singing  reapers  pass, 

Where  the  chestnut  woods  are  sending 
Leafy  showers  on  the  grass. 

The  blue  river  onward  flowing 
Mmgles  ^ith  its  noisy  strife, 

The  murmur  of  the  flowers  growing, 
And  the  hum  of  insect  life. 


ILLUSION.  233 

I,  from  that  rich  plain  was  gazing 
Towards  the  snowy  mountains  high, 

Who  their  gleaming  peaks  were  raising 
Up  against  the  purple  sky. 

And  the  glory  of  their  shining 

Bathed  in  clouds  of  rosy  light, 
Set  my  weary  sj^irit  pining 

For  a  home  so  pure  and  bright ! 

So  I  left  the  plain,  and  weary, 

Fainting,  yet  with  hope  sustained. 

Toiled  through  pathways  long  and  dreary. 
Till  the  mountain  top  was  gained. 

Lo !  the  height  that  I  had  taken, 

As  so  shining  from  below. 
Was  a  desolate,  forsaken 

Region  of  perpetual  snow. 

I  am  faint,  my  feet  are  bleeding. 

All  my  feeble  strength  is  worn, 
In  the  plain  no  soul  is  heeding, 

I  am  here  alone,  forlorn. 


234  ILLUSION. 

Lights  are  shining,  bells  are  tolling, 

In  the  busy  vale  below ; 
Near  me  night's  black  clouds  are  rolling, 

Gathering  o'er  a  waste  of  snow. 

So  I  watch  the  river  winding 
Through  the  misty  fading  plain, 

Bitter  are  the  tear-droj^s  bhnding. 
Bitter  useless  toil  and  pain — 

Bitterest  of  all  the  finding 

That  my  dream  was  false  and  vain ! 


A  VISION. 

Gloomy  and  black  are  the  cypress  trees, 
Drearily  waileth  the  chill  night  breeze. 
The  long  grass  waveth,  the  tombs  are  white, 
And  the  black  clouds  flit  o'er  the  chill  moonhght. 
Silent  is  all  save  the  dropping  rain, 


A     VISION.  235 

When  slowly  there  cometh  a  mourning  tram ; 
The  lone  churchyard  is  dark  and  dim, 
And  the  mourners  raise  a  funeral  hymn  : 

"  Open,  dark  grave,  and  take  her ; 

Though  we  have  loved  her  so, 
Yet  we  must  now  forsake  her. 
Love  win  no  more  awake  her  : 

(Oh,  bitter  woe !) 
Open  thine  arms  and  take  her 

To  rest  below ! 

"  Vain  is  our  mournful  weeping, 

Her  gentle  life  is  o'er  ; 
Only  the  worm  is  creeping 
Where  she  will  soon  be  sleeping. 

For  evermore — 
Nor  joy  nor  love  is  keei>ing 

For  her  in  store  ! " 

Gloomy  and  black  are  the  cypress  trees, 
And  drearily  wave  in  the  chill  night  breeze. 
The  dark  clouds  part  and  the  heavens  are  blue. 
Where  the  trembhng  stars  are  shining  through, 


236  A    VISION. 

Slowly  across  the  gleaming  sky, 

A  crowd  of  white  angels  are  passing  by. 

Like  a  fleet  of  swans  they  float  along, 

Or  the  sUver  notes  of  a  dying  song. 

Like  a  cloud  of  incense  their  pinions  rise. 

Fading  away  up  the  purple  skies. 

But  hush  !  for  the  silent  glory  is  stirred, 

By  a  strain  such  as  earth  has  never  heard 

"  Open,  O  Heaven !  we  bear  her, 
This  gentle  maiden  mild, 

Eai'th's  griefs  we  gladly  spare  her. 

From  earthly  joys  we  tear  her. 
Still  undefiled ; 

And  to  thine  arms  we  bear  her, 
Thme  own,  thy  cliild. 

"  Open,  O  Heaven  !  no  morrow 
Will  see  this  joy  o'ercast, 

No  pam,  no  tears,  no  sorrow, 

Her  gentle  heart  Tvdll  borrow ; 
Sad  life  is  past ; 

Shielded  and  safe  from  sorrow, 
At  home  at  last." 


A     VISION.  237 

But  the  vision  faded  and  all  was  still, 

On  the  purple  valley  and  distant  hill. 

No  sound  Avas  there  save  the  wailing  breeze, 

The  rain,  and  the  rustling  cypress  trees. 


PICTURES   m   THE    FIEE. 

What  is  it  you  ask  me,  darhng  ? 

All  my  stories,  child,  you  know : 
I  have  no  strange  dreams  to  tell  you. 

Pictures  I  have  none  to  show. 

Tell  you  glorious  scenes  of  travel  ? 

Nay,  my  child,  that  cannot  be, 
I  have  seen  no  foreign  countries. 

Marvels  none  on  land  or  sea. 

Yet  strange  sights  in  truth  I  witness, 

And  I  gaze  until  I  tire ; 
Wondrous  pictures,  changing  ever. 

As  I  look  into  the  fire. 


238  PICTURES     IN     THE     FIRE. 

There,  last  night,  I  saw  a  cavern, 
Black  as  pitch ;  within  it  lay 

Coiled  in  many  folds  a  dragon, 
Glaring  as  if  turned  at  bay. 

And  a  knight  in  dismal  ai*mour 
On  a  wingfed  eagle  came, 

To  do  battle  with  this  dragon ; 
And  his  crest  was  all  of  flame. 

As  I  gazed  the  dragon  faded, 

And,  instead,  sate  Pluto  crowned. 

By  a  lake  of  burning  fire  ; 

Spirits  dark  were  crouching  round. 

That  was  gone,  and  lo !  before  me, 
A  cathedral  vast  and  grim ; 

I  could  almost  hear  the  organ 
Roll  along  the  arches  dim. 

As  I  watched  the  wreathed  pillars, 
A  thick  grove  of  palms  arose. 


PICTURES     IN     THE     FIRE.  239 


And  a  group  of  swarthy  Indians 
Stealing  on  some  sleeping  foes. 


Stay ;  a  cataract  glancing  brightly, 
Dashed  and  sparkled ;  and  beside 

Lay  a  broken  marble  monster, 

Mouth  and  eyes  were  staring  wide. 


Then  I  saw  a  maiden  wreathing 
Starry  flowers  in  garlands  sweet ; 

Did  she  see  the  fiery  serpent 

That  was  wrapped  about  her  feet  ? 

That  fell  crashing  all  and  vanished ; 

And  I  saw  two  armies  close — 
I  could  almost  hear  the  clarions, 

And  the  shouting  of  the  foes. 

They  were  gone ;  and  lo  !  bright  angels. 

On  a  barren  moimtain  wild, 
Raised  appealing  arms  to  Heaven, 

Bearing  up  a  little  child. 


240  PICTURES     IN     THE     FIRE. 

And  I  gazed,  and  gazed,  and  slowly 
Gathered  in  my  eyes  sad  tears, 

And  the  fiery  pictures  bore  me 

Back  through  distant  dreams  of  years. 

Once  again  I  tasted  sorrow, 

"With  past  joy  was  once  more  gay, 

Till  the  shade  had  gathered  round  me — 
And  the  fire  had  died  away. 


THE   SETTLEES. 

Two  stranger  youths  in  the  Far  West, 

Beneath  the  ancient  forest  trees. 
Pausing,  amid  their  toU,  to  rest, 

Spake  of  their  home  beyond  the  seas ; 
Spake  of  the  hearts  that  beat  so  warmly, 

Of  the  hearts  they  loved  so  weU, 
In  their  chilly  northern  coimtry. 

"  "Would,"  they  cried,  "  some  voice  could  tell 


THE     SETTLERS.  241 

Where  they  are,  our  own  beloved  ones !" 

They  looked  up  to  the  evening  sky 
Half  hidden  by  the  giant  branches, 

But  heard  no  angel-voice  reply. 
All  silent  was  the  quiet  evening ; 

Silent  were  the  ancient  trees ; 
They  only  heard  the  murmuring  song 

Of  the  summer  breeze. 
That  gently  played  among 

The  acacia  trees. 

And  did  no  warning  spirit  answer, 

Amid  the  silence  aU  around ; 
"  Before  the  lowly  village  altar 

She  thou  lovest  may  be  found. 
Thou,  who  trustest  still  so  blindly, 

Know  she  stands  a  smiling  bride ! 
Forgetting  thee,  she  turneth  kmdly 

To  the  stranger  at  her  side. 
Yes,  this  day  thou  art  forgotten. 

Forgotten,  too,  thy  last  farewell. 
All  the  vows  that  she  has  spoken, 

And  thy  heart  has  kept  so  well. 
Dream  no  more  of  a  starry  future, 
11 


242  THE     SETTLERS. 

In  thy  home  beyond  the  seas !" 
But  he  only  heard  the  gentle  sigh 

Of  the  siunmer  breeze, 
So  softly  passmg  by 

The  acacia  trees. 

And  vainly,  too,  the  other,  looking 

Smiling  up  through  hopeful  tears. 
Asked  in  his  heart  of  hearts,  "Where  is  she, 

She  I  loved  these  many  years  ?" 
He  heard  no  echo  calling  faintly : 

"  Lo,  she  lieth  cold  and  pale. 
And  her  smile  so  calm  and  saintly 

Heeds  not  grieving  sob  or  wail — 
Heeds  not  the  lilies  strewn  upon  her, 

Pure  as  she  is,  and  as  white, 
Or  the  solenm  chanting  voices, 

Or  the  taper's  ghastly  light." 
But  silent  still  was  the  ancient  forest. 

Silent  were  the  gloomy  trees. 
He  only  heard  the  wailing  sound 

Of  the  summer  breeze. 
That  sadly  played  around 

The  acacia  trees ! 


HUSH! 

"  I  CAN  scarcely  hear,"  she  murmured, 
"  For  my  heart  beats  loud  and  fast, 
But  surely  in  the  far,  far  distance, 
I  can  hear  a  sound  at  last." 
"  It  is  only  the  reapers  singing, 

As  they  carry  home  their  sheaves ; 
And  the  evening  breeze  has  risen. 
And  rustles  the  dying  leaves." 

"  Listen !  there  are  voices  talkiuQ:." 
Calmly  still  she  strove  to  sj^eak, 
Yet  her  voice  grew  faint  and  trembling, 
And  the  red  flushed  in  her  cheek. 
"  It  is  only  the  children  playing 

Below,  now  their  work  is  done. 
And  they  laugh  that  their  eyes  are  dazzled 
By  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun." 


244  hush! 

Fainter  grew  her  voice,  and  weaker, 

As  with  anxious  eyes  she  cried, 
"  Down  the  avenue  of  chestnuts, 
■I  can  hear  a  horseman  ride." 

"  It  was  only  the  deer  that  were  feeding 

In  a  herd  on  the  clover  grass, 
They  were  startled,  and  fled  to  the  thicket 
As  they  saw  the  reapers  pass." 

Now  the  night  arose  in  silence, 
Birds  lay  in  their  leafy  nest, 
And  the  deer  couched  in  the  forest. 
And  the  children  were  at  rest ; 

There  was  only  a  sound  of  weeping 

From  watchers  around  a  bed, 
But  Rest  to  the  weary  spirit, 
Peace  to  the  quiet  Dead ! 


HOUES. 

When  the  bright  stars  came  out  last  night, 
And  the  dew  lay  on  the  flowers, 

I  had  a  vision  of  delight — 
A  dream  of  by-gone  hours. 

Those  hours  that  came  and  fled  so  fast 

Of  pleasure  or  of  pain. 
As  phantoms  rose  from  out  the  past 

Before  my  eyes  again. 

With  beating  heart  did  I  behold 

A  train  of  joyous  hours, 
Lit  with  the  radiant  light  of  old, 

And,  smiling,  crowned  with  flowers. 

And  some  were  hours  of  childish  sorrow, 
A  mimicry  of  pain, 


246  H  O  U  B  s . 

That  through  theu-  tears  looked  for  a  morrow 
They  kuew  must  smile  agaba. 

Those  hours  of  hope  that  longed  for  life, 

And  wished  their  part  begun, 
And  ere  the  summons  to  the  strife, 

Dreamed  that  the  field  was  won. 

I  knew  the  echo  of  their  voice. 

The  starry  crowns  they  wore ; 
The  vision  made  my  soul  rejoice 

With  the  old  thrill  of  yore. 

I  knew  the  perfume  of  their  flowers ; 

The  glorious  shming  rays 
Aroimd  these  happy  smiling  hours 

Were  lit  in  by-gone  days. 

O  stay,  I  cried — ^bright  visions,  stay, 

And  leave  me  not  forlorn ! 
But,  smiUng  still,  they  passed  away, 

Like  shadows  of  the  mom. 


HOURS.  247 

One  spirit  still  remained,  and  cried, 

"  Thy  soul  shaU  ne'er  forget !" 
He  standeth  ever  by  my  side — 

The  phantom  called  Regret ! 

But  still  the  spirits  rose,  and  there 

Were  weary  hours  of  pain, 
And  anxious  hours  of  fear  and  care 

Boimd  by  an  iron  chain. 

Dim  shadows  came  of  lonely  hours, 

That  shunned  the  hght  of  day, 
And  in  the  opening  smile  of  flowers 

Saw  only  quick  decay. 

Calm  hours  that  sought  the  starry  skies 

For  heavenly  lore  were  there ; 
With  folded  hands  and  earnest  eyes, 

I  knew  the  hours  of  prayer. 

Stern  hours  that  darkened  the  sun's  light. 

Heralds  of  coming  woes. 
With  trailing  wings,  before  my  sight 

From  the  dim  past  arose. 


248  HO  UBS. 

As  each  dark  vision  passed  and  spoke 

I  prayed  it  to  depart : 
At  each  some  buried  sorrow  woke 

And  stii-red  within  my  heart. 

Until  these  hours  of  pain  and  care 

Lifted  their  tearful  eyes, 
Spread  their  dark  pinions  in  the  air 

And  passed  into  the  skies. 


THE  TWO    INTEEPEETEES. 

"  The  clouds  are  fleeting  by,  father, 

Look  in  the  shining  west, 
The  great  white  clouds  sail  onward 

Upon  the  sky's  blue  breast. 
Look  at  a  snowy  eagle. 

His  wings  are  tinged  wdth  red. 
And  a  giant  dolphin  foUows  him, 

With  a  crown  upon  his  head  I" 


THE      TWO     INTERPRETERS.  249 

The  father  spake  no  word,  but  watched 

The  drifting  clouds  roll  by ; 
He  traced  a  misty  vision  too 

Upon  the  shining  sky : 
A  shadowy  form,  with  well-known  grace 

Of  weary  love  and  care, 
Above  the  smiling  chUd  she  held. 

Shook  down  her  floating  hair. 

"  The  clouds  are  changuig  now,  father, 

MountaLus  rise  high  and  higher  ! 
And  see  where  red  and  purple  ships 

Sail  in  a  sea  of  fire !  " 
The  father  pressed  the  little  hand 

More  closely  in  his  own, 
And  watched  a  cloud-dream  in  the  sky 

That  he  could  see  alone  : 
Bright  angels  carrying  far  away 

A  white  form,  cold  and  dead, 
Two  held  the  feet,  and  two  bore  n^ 

The  flower-crowned  di'ooping  head. 

"  See,  father,  see !  a  glory  floods 

The  sky,  and  all  is  bright, 
11* 


250  THE     TWO     INTEBPBETEKS. 

And  clouds  of  every  hue  and  shade 

Bum  in  the  golden  light. 
And  now,  above  an  azure  lake 

Rise  battlements  and  towers, 
Where  knights  and  ladies  climb  the  heights, 

All  bearing  purple  flowers. " 

The  father  looked,  and,  with  a  pang 

Of  love  and  strange  alarm, 
Drew  close  the  Uttle  eager  child 

Within  his  sheltering  arm ; 
From  out  the  clouds  the  mother  looks 

With  wistful  glance  below. 
She  seems  to  seek  the  treasure  left 

On  earth  so  long  ago  ; 
She  holds  her  arms  out  to  her  child, 

His  cradle-song  she  sings  : 
The  last  rays  of  the  sunset  gleam    • 

Upon  her  outspread  wings. 

Calm  twUight  veils  the  summer  sky. 

The  slaining  clouds  are  gone ; 
In  vain  the  merry  laughing  child 

Still  gaily  prattles  on ; 


THE     TWO     INTERPRETERS.  251 

In  vain  the  bright  stars,  one  by  one, 

On  the  blue  silence  start, 
A  dreary  shadow  rests  to-night 

Upon  the  father's  heart. 


COMFOET. 

Hast  thou  o'er  the  clear  heaven  of  thy  soul 

Seen  tempests  roU  ? 
Hast  thou  watched  all  the  hopes  thou  wouldst  have 
won 

Fade,  one  by  one  ? 
Wait  till  the  clouds  are  past,  then  raise  thine  eyes 

To  bluer  skies ! 

Hast  thou  gone  sadly  through  a  dreary  night. 

And  found  no  light, 
No  guide,  no  star,  to  cheer  thee  through  the  plain — 

No  friend,  save  pain  ? 


252  COMFOKT. 

Wait,  and  thy  soul  shall  see,  when  most  forlorn, 
Rise  a  new  mom. 

Hast  thou  beneath  another's  stern  control 

Bent  thy  sad  soul, 
And  wasted  sacred  hopes  and  precious  tears  ? 

Yet  cahn  thy  fears, 
For  thou  canst  gain,  even  from  the  bitterest  part. 

A  stronger  heart. 

Has  Fate  o'erwhelmed  thee  with  some  sudden  blow? 

Let  thy  tears  flow ; 
But  know  when  storms  are  past,  the  heavens  appear 

More  pure,  more  clear ; 
And  hope,  when  farthest  from  their  shining  rays, 

For  brighter  days. 

Hast  thou  found  life  a  cheat,  and  worn  in  vain 

Its  iron  chain  ? 
Has  thy  soul  bent  beneath  earth's  heavy  bond  ? 

Look  thou  beyond ; 
If  life  is  bitter — there  for  ever  shine 

Hopes  more  divine ! 


COMPORT.  253 

Art  thou  alone,  and  does  thy  soul  complain 

It  lives  iu  vain  ? 
Not  vainly  does  he  live  who  can  endure. 

O  be  thou  sure, 
That  he  who  hopes  and  suffers  here  can  earn 

A  sure  return. 

Hast  thou  found  nought  within  thy  troubled  life 

Save  inward  strife  ? 
Hast  thou  found  all  she  promised  thee,  Deceit, 

And  Hope  a  cheat  ? 
Endure,  and  there  shall  dawn  within  thy  breast 

Eternal  rest ! 


HOME  AT  LAST. 

Child,  do  not  fear ; 
We  shall  reach  our  home  to-night, 
For  the  sky  is  clear, 
And  the  waters  bright ; 
And  the  breezes  have  scarcely  strength 
To  unfold  that  Httle  cloud, 
That  like  a  shroud 
Spreads  out  its  fleecy  length  ; 
Then  have  no  fear, 
As  we  cleave  our  silver  way 

Throuerh  the  waters  clear. 

Fear  not,  my  child ! 
Though  the  waves  are  white  and  high, 
And  the  storm  blows  wild 
Through  the  gloomy  sky ; 
On  the  edge  of  the  western  sea, 
See  that  Une  of  golden  light. 


HOME     AT     LAST.  255 

Is  the  haven  bright 
Where  home  is  awaiting  thee. 

Where,  this  peril  past, 
We  shall  rest  from  our  stormy  voyage 

In  peace  at  last. 

Be  not  afraid ; 
But  give  me  thy  hand,  and  see 
How  the  waves  have  made 

A  cradle  for  thee. 
Night  is  come,  dear,  and  we  shall  rest ; 
So  turn  from  the  angry  skies, 

And  close  thine  eyes. 
And  lay  thy  head  on  my  breast : 

Child,  do  not  weep ; 
In  the  cahn,  cold,  pui-j^le  depths 

There  we  shall  sleep. 


UNEXPKESSED. 

Dwells  within  the  soul  of  every  Artist 
More  than  all  his  effort  can  express ; 
And  he  knows  the  best  remains  unuttered ; 
Sighing  at  what  toe  caU  his  success. 

Vainly  he  may  strive ;  he  dare  not  tell  us 
AU  the  sacred  mysteries  of  the  skies : 
Vainly  he  may  strive ;  the  deepest  beauty 
Cannot  be  unveiled  to  mortal  eyes. 

And  the  more  devoutly  that  he  listens, 
And  the  holier  message  that  is  sent, 
StiU  the  more  his  soul  must  struggle  vainly, 
Bowed  beneath  a  noble  discontent. 


UNEXPRESSED.  257 

No  great  Thinker  ever  lived,  and  taught  you 
All  the  wonder  that  his  soul  received  ; 
No  true  Painter  ever  set  on  canvas 
All  the  glorious  vision  he  conceived. 

No  Musician  ever  held  your  spirit 
Charmed  and  bound  in  his  melodious  chains, 
But  be  sure  he  heard,  and  strove  to  render, 
Feeble  echoes  of  celestial  strains. 

No  real  Poet  ever  wove  in  numbers 
All  his  dream ;  but  the  diviner  part, 
Hidden  from  all  the  world,  spake  to  him  only 
In  the  voiceless  silence  of  his  heart. 


So  with  Love  :  for  Love  and  Art  united 
Are  twin  mysteries ;  different  yet  the  same 
Poor  indeed  would  be  the  love  of  any 
Who  could  find  its  fuU  and  perfect  name. 

Love  may  strive,  but  vain  is  the  endeavom* 
All  its  boundless  riches  to  unfold ; 


258  UNEXPRESSED. 

Still  its  tenderest,  truest  secret  lingers 
Ever  in  its  deepest  depths  untold. 

Tilings  of  Time  have  voices :  speak  and  perish. 
Art  and  Iipve  speak — but  their  words  must  be 
Like  sighiugs  of  illimitable  forests, 
And  waves  of  an  unfathomable  sea. 


BECAUSE.    . 

It  is  not  because  your  heart  is  mine — mine  onlj^— 

INIine  alone ; 
It  is  not  because  you  chose  me,  weak  and  lonely, 

For  your  own ; 
Not  because  the  earth  is  fairer,  and  the  skies 

Spread  above  you 
Are  more  radiant  for  the  shining  of  your  eyes — 

That  I  love  you ! 


BECAUSE.  259 

It  is  not  because  the  world's  perplexed  meaning 

Grows  more  clear ; 
And  the  Parapets  of  Heaven,  with  angels  leaning, 

Seem  more  near ; 
And  Nature  sings  of  praise  with  all  her  voices 

Since  yours  spoke, 
Since  within  my  silent  heart,  that  now  rejoices, 

Love  awoke ! 


Nay,  not  even  because  your  hand  holds  heart  and 
life; 

At  your  will 
Soothing,  hushing  all  its  discord,  making  strife 

Calm  and  still ; 
Teaching  Trust  to  fold  her  wings,  nor  ever  roam 

From  her  nest ; 
Teaching  Love  that  her  securest,  safest  home 

Must  be  Rest. 


But  because  this  himian  Love,  though  true  and 
sweet — 

Yours  and  mine — 


260  BECAUSE. 

Has  been  sent  by  love  more  tender,  more  complete, 

More  divine ; 
That  it  leads  our  hearts  to  rest  at  last  in  Heaven, 

Far  above  you ; 
Do  I  take  you  as  a  gift  that  God  has  given — 

— ^And  I  love  you ! 


EEST  AT  EYENING. 

When  the  weariness  of  Life  is  ended, 

And  the  task  of  om'  long  day  is  done. 

And  the  props,  on  which  our  hearts  depended. 

All  have  failed,  or  broken,  one  by  one  ; 

Evening  and  our  Sorrow's  shadow  blended. 

Telling  us  that  peace  is  now  begun. 

How  far  back  will  seem  the  sun's  first  dawning. 
And  those  early  mists  so  cold  and  grey ! 
Half  forgotten  even  the  toil  of  morning. 
And  the  heat  and  burthen  of  the  day. 


KEST     AT     EVENING.  261 

Flowers  that  we  were  tending,  and  weeds  scorning, 
All  alike,  withered  and  cast  away. 

Vain  will  seem  the  impatient  heart,  that  waited 

Toils  that  gathered  but  too  quickly  round ; 

And  the  childish  joy,  so  soon  elated 

At  the  path  we  thought  none  else  had  found ; 

And  the  foolish  ardour,  soon  abated 

By  the  storm  which  cast  us  to  the  ground. 

Vain  those  pauses  on  the  road,  each  seeming 

As  our  final  home  and  restrng-j)lace ; 

And  the  leaving  them,  while  tears  were  streaming 

Of  eternal  sorrow  do^"m  our  face ; 

And  the  hands  we  held,  fond  folly  dreaming 

That  no  future  could  their  touch  efface. 

AU  will  then  be  faded : — night  will  borrow 
Stars  of  light  to  crown  our  perfect  rest ; 
And  the  dim  vague  memory  of  faint  sorrow 
Just  remain  to  show  us  all  was  best, 
Then  melt  into  a  divine  to-morroAv^ : — 
Oh,  how  poor  a  day  to  be  so  blest ! 


A  KETEOSPECT. 

Fkom  this  fair  point  of  present  bliss, 

Where  we  together  stand, 
Let  me  look  back  once  more,  and  trace 

That  long  and  desert  land. 
Wherein  till  now  was  cast  my  lot,  and  I  could  live, 
and  thou  wert  not. 

Strange  that  my  heart  could  beat,  and  know 

Alternate  joy  and  pain, 
That  suns  could  roll  from  east  to  west, 

And  clouds  could  pass  in  rain. 
And  the  slow  hours  without  thee  fleet,  nor  stay 
their  noiseless  silver  feet. 

What  had  I  then  ?  a  Hope,  that  grew 

Each  hour  more  bright  and  deai-, 
The  flush  upon  the  eastern  skies 


A     EETEOSPECT.  263 

That  showed  the  sun  was  neai- : — 
Now  night  has  faded  far  away,  my  sun  has  risen, 
and  it  is  day. 

A  dim  Ideal  of  tender  grace 

In  my  soul  reigned  supreme ; 
Too  noble  and  too  sweet  I  thought 

To  Hve,  save  in  a  dream — 
Within  thy  heart  to-day  it  lies,  and  looks  on  me 
fi'om  thy  dear  eyes. 

Some  gentle  spirit, — Love  I  thought, — 

Built  many  a  shrine  of  pain ; 
Though  each  false  Idol  fell  to  dust 

The  worship  was  not  vain. 
But  a  faint  radiant  shadow  cast   back  from  our 
Love  upon  the  Past. 

And  Grief,  too,  held  her  vigil  there  ; 

With  unrelenting  sway 
Breaking  my  cloudy  visions  down. 

Throwing  my  flowers  away : — 
I  owe  to  her  fond  care  alone  that  I  may  now  be 
all  thine  own. 


264  A     RETROSPECT. 

Fair  Joy  was  there — her  fluttering  wings 

At  times  she  strove  to  raise ; 
Watching  through  long  and  patient  nights, 

Listening  long  eager  days : 
I  know  now  that  her  heart  and  mine  were  waiting. 
Love,  to  welcome  thine. 

Thus  I  can  read  thy  name  throughout, 

And,  now  her  task  is  done. 
Can  see  that  even  that  faded  Past 

"Was  thine,  beloved  one. 
And  so  rejoice  my  Life  may  be  all  consecrated, 
dear,  to  thee. 


THE    END. 


J' 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


'1      JAN 

•   JAN  21  1981 


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